New Batteries
by 0ptimuspenguin
Summary: Sequel to Flashlight. "WELL, I NEVER LIKED YOU, EITHER. WHAT NOW, YOU STUPID SPARKLY EXCUSE OF A VAMPIRE?" Spamano
1. that's a hugeass mirror

**Disclaimer: Nope~**

**A/N: **HOLY SHIT I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE I'VE FINISHED FLASHLIGHT. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND NOW STICKING WITH ME FOR THIS. C:

DO YOU LIKE THE TITLE? /shot

...-hides- I'm sorry I'm so late! I'd blame the Democrats, but.../shot more

Hope you guys enjoy. Thanks to my beautiful gorgeous sexy beta Lily Winterwood for editing and title help! ILY GIRLFRAAAN ;D

* * *

**Chapter 1 - that's a huge fucking mirror**

So I was dreaming.

That much I'd discerned, because I was standing in a meadow - like the flowery, muddy one Antonio liked to take me to - when I quite clearly remembered climbing into bed. And then my grandpa Romulus, the one I'd gotten my middle name "Romano" from and the one who didn't like me and the one who was very dead - was standing across the clearing in a designer suit and Prada sunglasses. He looked pretty grumpy and was scowling at me.

Oh, right. In case you can't remember who I am, my name's Lovino Vargas, I live in the perpetually rainy town of Forks, Washington, with my emotionally constipated dad Ludwig, and I'm dating a ridiculously attractive vampire named Antonio.

Except that he's not, you know, _cool_, because I don't think you can be cool if the sun makes you look like you bathed in glitter glue.

But who cares about my boyfriend? I sneered and raised a hand to flip my grandfather off.

He did the same exact thing, the bastard, so I stomped over with the intent of punching him. I'd always wanted to when he was alive, but Mom would inevitably walk in _right_ as I was about to sock him one, and smile in that creepy Vargas way that had totally skipped over me. Mom and Gramps looked like idiots but all hell broke loose when they were mad; me, I was grumpy all the time, so nothing was too different.

Then I saw sparkling, like the sun reflecting off glass shards, to my left, and turned to see Antonio in a frilly pink apron with a tray of churros in his hands.

I twitched. What a _marshmallow_.

He skipped over to me, sparkling and smiling gayly all the while, and stopped right in front of me.

I crossed my arms and turned to face my grandfather with the intention of flaunting my regrettably glittery but still inhumanly hot boyfriend.

Gramps had his arms crossed too, and the look of shock on his face probably mirrored the one on mine.

Then I noticed the gold frame, and realized that I'd been trying to piss off a mirror.

"Happy birthday, Lovi~!" sang Antonio.

I promptly punched him, and the shock of punching a marble face woke me up.

Jolting up in bed, I reached up and yanked my curl to make sure I was awake.

I was.

Ludwig stood at my bedroom door with a weirded out expression on his ridiculously _German_ face. "Uh. I'm off early today."

"Che. Whatever."

As soon as I heard the garagre door shut, I stood and padded over to my closet, rifling around for clothes.

I knew exactly why I'd had that dream. Arthur - my vampire boyfriend's mother figure, dubbed so because I _seriously_ doubted that he could top the actual father figure, Francis...but technically, Antonio was older than Arthur, so maybe that title should be edited to "stepmother who could be your sister"? - had removed the cast on my leg just the day before. One of Antonio's 'sisters', Liz, had immediately called, excited over the long-postponed birthday party that _we could finally have_! Oh em gee! It was two months after Mask had snapped my leg like a toothpick and bedridden me for like two weeks.

...god, I_ hate_ recaps. Hold on to your seat, we're having a -

Flashback

_"AUGH, MY LEG! GET OFF ME, YOU FUCKTARD!" Lovino screeched, flailing about on the floor like a deformed fish, kicking the guy currently balancing on his knee. _

_Sadiq grinned maliciously before something slammed into him and sent him flying towards the opposite wall. A tall, bronze-skinned man hovered over the still-thrashing Italian, pressing a kiss to his face and mumbling something before straightening up and turning to fight._

End Flashback

- flashback. Okay, got your undies? Good.

So yeah, my leg had been broken and I'd been graced by an oh-so-pretty bite mark on my forearm from where Mask - the guy who broke my leg in the first place - decided to start gnawing on me. His scrawny little boyfriend, some Egyptian guy whose name I can't pronounce, ran off, and now I lived in slight anxiety of when Pipsqueak would reappear.

But back to the story. Ugh, May 5th. I groaned and reached for a pair of jeans.

Antonio's wide grin as I got into his car thirty minutes later made me grimace harder.

* * *

We watched _Romeo and Juliet _in lit that day. Miss Braginskaya sat at her desk, grading papers, and the movie played loudly on the old television. I sat with Antonio at the back, whispering to each other quietly enough for the film to drown us out. Lieve, the blond Belgian, and Maddy, the Seychellois chick, were both sniffling, although Jason - that's Lieve's little Luxembourgian brother, who'd transferred into our class at some point or other - looked bored out of his mind.

"God, I can't believe Liz is really..." I cut off with a growl muffled by my arm as I whacked my head against the desk.

Antonio smiled. "There're worse tragedies, Lovi!" he whispered dramatically; I continued thumping my forehead. "I mean, look at Romeo! He kills his girlfriend out of stupidity!"

"Should I be worried?" I drawled.

He didn't seem to hear me. "But I do envy him one thing..."

Yawning, I hunched over the desk and rested my chin in my palm. "Yeah, yeah, Juliet's got a nice rack. Sorry."

"Aww, Lovi! You should know that you're the only one for me! Noooo, I envy him the easy death!"

My eye twitched. "Feeling suicidal, are we?"

A moment passed, and then Antonio sighed. "No, but I _was_. When you were in the hospital."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we've only been dating like two months, how're you already prepared to kill yourself?"

"Because I love you, and I've been waiting fifteen hundred years for you," he said placidly. I shuddered at the mention of how _old_ he was...I'm not really sure that's what they mean by the whole _age is just a number_ thing, you know? "But I wouldn't be able to live without you."

I arched an eyebrow. "Uh, one, technically you're already dead; and two, aren't you kind of indestructible? For some reason, I don't think that your dysfunctional little family would willingly rip you apart and set your remains on fire. Just a hunch."

"That's true..." he sighed. "So I planned it out, back then. I didn't know if I'd reach you in time."

"Do I want to know the plan?" It sounded gruesome already.

"I'd go to Italy and harass the Volturi long enough that they'd kill me," he said cheerfully, as though I'd not made one of my awesomely witty remarks. Bastard.

I stared blankly. "...the whut now?"

There was a bouncing sound and the clicking of a button hitting the floor. Miss B'd stood up and paused the film. "Kay, guys. Who'd like to show that they were listening, and repeat the last few lines of iambic pentameter?" Her eyes scanned the classroom as she sewed up her shirt with a spare button, so used to the gesture that she hardly looked at the work. "Mr Vargas?"

Of course, I had no idea what they were. Antonio whispered the phrases to me and I said them, revelling in her pleased smile before she replayed the movie and sat back down.

* * *

"The Volturi are really old and really powerful," said Antonio later that day as we stood in Arthur's upstairs office. Liz was still setting up the party downstairs, so Antonio offered to finish the whole Volturi thing. There was a large gilded frame hanging on the wall, and he motioned to it. "They're a family, kind of like us, except that they're practically monarchs in our world."

I squinted at the ornate painting - it was of a large marble court, with four men standing on a balcony and glancing out regally on the activity below. Well, actually, one of them was kind of standing there awkardly, as though he couldn't wait to leave; another looked pissy, and the one in the front looked like an idiot. The picture looked like oil, with lots of detail on the faces. Probably done by another vampire, for the work to be so skillful. But who cared about that?

"Is that - Arthur, way up there?" I asked, leaning close and regretting my lack of glasses.

"Yep." Antonio scowled; I didn't really know why, but he didn't seem too fond of Arthur. Nobody was, really, except the women at the hospital, Nat, and Francis (but Francis was probably fond of everything with legs, so he didn't count). "He spent a couple hundred years with them, I think, while he and I were having an argument...when he came back, he said that even _I_ was bearable compared to Yong-Soo!"

"...Yong-soo?" I tried, totally butchering the name.

"That guy!" He pointed to the first person, a tall dark-haired man standing at the front of the balcony.

Then I noticed something.

"Wait...if they're called the Volturi, why the fuck are they _Asian_?"

Antonio burst into laughter. I scowled and crossed my arms, tapping my foot impatiently and waiting for him to finish.

"Sorry," he said, still grinning. "But actually, apparently the Volturi was originally led by three Italian guys, and they had their big army of other vampires. But then Yong-Soo, the Korean guy in front, decided that he didn't like the Volturi's laws - which were really long and complicated - and rounded up a bunch of other Asian vampires to wage war."

"I'm guessing they won," I replied dryly.

He nodded cheerily.

"Why not change the name, then?"

"I dunno," Antonio said with a stupid grin. "The city they stay in is called Volterra...they just took the original Volturi's castle after destroying their army. I guess thinking up another name would've been too much work!"

I decided to call them the Fobturi.

"They're not too bad, I guess," he continued. "I mean, they're really interested in the arts, and science and math - but also the law. The original Volturi were stiffs; since Yong-Soo took over, the rulebook's been condensed into two major laws: one, don't draw too much attention, and two, don't give yourself away to humans. But they're far more strict on those two laws than the originals were with their two million!"

"So does that mean that they can screw you over for telling me about your little condition?"

"Yeah, but who cares," he shrugged. "They're not gonna find out unless we tell them, and if they think something's wrong, Liz will see them coming."

I sighed. "And you were thinking of going to them if I died?"

Antonio leaned over and cupped my face, smiling crookedly. I batted him off and reached up to try and rub some warmth back into my cheeks. "I was, _sì_."

"You've...gotta stop talking like that," I grumbled, crossing my arms. He tilted his head in confusion. "About going to get yourself killed!"

It took a second, and then - like a waffle-machine heating up - realization started to glow in his topaz eyes, and he swept me up in a massive hug. "You're worried for meeeee!" he squealed in delight.

"N-no I'm not! I- I just don't want you to go and get hurt, like the idiot you are," I said with a roll of my eyes.

He was smiling again. "No worries, Lovi! The only thing that can hurt me is you, and I've not got anything else to be afraid of!"

"...that's so not true, and you know it," I huffed, thinking of a certain tiny Egyptian.

I guess Antonio was on the same train of thought - which was creepy in itself, I don't want to think the same way as _that_ idiot - because he laughed. "Gupta will come at some point. Liz'll see and we'll all be fine~"

"...I could protect you," I started, totally not squeeing at the loving smile on his face. "If you change me."

His smile popped like a bubble, and his brow furrowed. "Lovi...you already do protect me, though. You're the only reason that I've not kicked it already!" He thought for a second, and then added, "Well, for a second time, because I think that turning killed me...but it's my job to protect you!"

C-che, that was so not happiness in my gut. Duh.

Then a smile, almost disturbingly lewd, broke out on Antonio's face.

"...from everyone but my sister," he finished 'apologetically', the tone kind of destroyed by his grin, as the door swung open and Liz stepped inside, holding something in her arms.

I started trembling, because that thing in her arms? It was nothing other than a strapless, knee-length dress of bright red - was that _silk_?

Oh, shit, get ready for -

Flashback

_"So, Lovino," said Liz with a bright grin as she motioned to his tomato red cast, "I just want you to know that, as soon as you can fit into the dress I picked you, we're going to have a belated birthday party for you!"_

_"D-dress?"_

End Flashback

- another flashback. Fucking recaps, don't expect any more, asshats.

At least now you know why I swallowed as Liz drew nearer.

* * *

**A/N:** L'HOHOH CLIFFHANGER IS CLIFFHANGER

AND I TOLD YOU I'D BE PUTTING ROMANO IN A LOT OF DRESSES, DIDN'T I? ;D

As for the flashback thing, I stole the idea of having spazzy narrators right before them - cuz you know, after a flashback, there tend to be inconsistencies with the story from before it, setting-wise - from a kink meme author c: I hope you didn't mind, they're only gonna be here and then NEVAR AGAINNN.


	2. these heels aren't meant for walking

**Disclaimer: Nope~**

**A/N:** WHY HAI THAR. Okay, so, this is a day late (updates will be semi-monthly) but that was my own fail and underestimation of both roleplaying as Spain and reading Seb/Grell fanfiction. c:

So here we've got some angsty!Spain and DRAMALLAMA, and I know I promised some people something, but for the sake of the plot...orz but I tried to alleviate that DRAMALLAMA with vulgar birthday presents, some kissing, and a teensy bit of FrUK and PrAus fluff. Yes. =w=b

Oh, and I don't know if it'll make you see this story as more epic or whatever, but I was listening to Dìmelo/Do You Know (The Ping Pong Song) by Enrique Iglesias while I wrote this. c:

Thanks for beta-reading, Lils! :D

* * *

**Chapter 2 - these heels aren't meant for walking, they're meant for stabbing pedophiles' eyes out**

The dress fit, regrettably and only just barely - although I was pretty sure Liz had purposefully gotten it two sizes too small, to show off my tiny my waist was in comparison to my hips. Liz had kicked Antonio down the stairs so she could jam me into the silky deathtrap, lacing up the back so tightly that I envied the Victorian-era women just because their clothes were probably easier to live in; as if the dress wasn't enough, Liz had a black ribbon that she tied around my neck and black stilettos that I wobbled in for a couple seconds before straightening up. They were like wearing tall boots, but the heel was just...a lot thinner.

Like, so thin that each step was as perilous as walking over a field of crushed glass. I tripped twice on the way to the door, and Liz giggled, probably imagining me tripping right into Antonio's arms.

In the twenty or thirty minutes I'd been upstairs with Antonio, Liz had decorated the whole living room with bright red. It looked like a convoluted church because of the sheer number of candles, all of which were of varying shapes and sizes but the same brilliant shade of crimson. Antonio stood by the grand piano in black slacks and a red dress shirt, and I didn't know which was worse: the fact that he was staring at me with a grin so perverse that it would've sent a serial child molester running for their money, or that we matched.

All the others were dressed formally, too. Liz herself was wearing a knee-length LBD, with inch-thick straps rising from a straight upper hem and crisscrossing over her back, and tall black stilettos. Nat had on a loose-flowing silvery dress of some shimmery material, and white boots. All the men were in slacks, and Gilbert hooted when he saw me.

I flushed bright red and crossed my arms over myself, feeling far too exposed in that stupid dress. "Fuck you, Liz," I glowered.

She beamed and grabbed my hand, yanking it down and pulling me along so fast that I didn't even have time to trip, although she did _accidentally_ send me hurtling in Antonio's general direction. He caught me, of course - damn good he did, or I'd have broken the heels trying to gouge out his perfect gold eyes - and held my hand happily. I sure as fuck wasn't gonna let him make out with my collarbone, as he had a penchant to do when we hugged, in front of Liz; if we did, then she'd probably put cameras in my car, room, and shower in the hopes of catching some Toni-Lovi action.

...if she hadn't already... I made a mental note to check when I got home, and she huffed, crossing her arms.

Right. Psychic. Che.

"Surely you have more faith in me than _that_," said Liz as she bounded over to the stack of presents.

Presents?

With a squawk, I blushed again and glanced between everyone. "Y-you didn't have to get me anything," I mumbled to the floor a second later.

"We know," smiled Francis. "_Mais _we could not miss the opportunity. _N'est-ce pas, mon ange_?"* He wrapped his arms around Arthur and kissed the back of his neck.

Arthur scowled and pushed him off, and I was willing to bet my soul that if he could blush, he'd have put my red face to shame. Why did all the people in the world who wanted lovers that _wouldn't _molest them every second of the day get the overly romantic, exhibitionist-type people? I sympathized with Arthur and the look in his eyes as Antonio hugged me around the stomach made it clear that he sympathized too.

Too bad he was such a prude.

A bright flash of light alerted me to the miserable fact that, by midnight, these photos would be posted on MyFace.* Liz handed me the first present, a parcel that felt like a book. "It's from me and Nat!" she beamed happily. I took it with a shy smile (and a squeal of delight from Antonio at my expression) and tore the gold paper open.

The book that fell into my hand had me gaping in horror. "W-what the fuck!" I shrieked, too terrified to throw it.

Both girls had wide grins. "Just some pointers," said Nat. "Don't be so cocky, because beyond your _swaggering personality _-"

"- lies a _hidden submissive_!" finished Liz with a wide cackle, practically quoting the summary off the book.

I stared at the cover again - SWITCH, it said in big red letters right above a photo of some buff bastard's upper torso - and shuddered hard before setting it down.* Antonio watched with curious eyes; ffft, as though he didn't know what it was. Che.

The next present was from Gilbert. The box was empty when I shook it, and he grinned, flashing me a thumbs up and saying that he'd already installed the new radio in my truck.

Bastard. I _liked_ my old radio.

Roderich gave me another book - an italian cookbook, and not another BDSM erotica, you pervs! The last present was a small envelope wrapped in shiny paper, from Francis and Arthur.

I cut my finger tearing it open; it was one of the retarded sort of paper cut that spews blood all over the place.

"Fuck," I hissed under my breath as I pulled my now-bleeding hand away.

Then I realized, oh, haha, _right_. These guys were vampires, and it's usually a bad idea to bleed around them. Just saying.

Oh, and especially around Gilbert, who bared his teeth as his pupils dilated from the smell.

He moved so quickly that I hardly saw him coming - more, the only way I knew he had charged was because Antonio jumped between us and pushed me back, sending me careening into a glass table. Which, you know, broke, because glass tends to do that under pressure, and cut me all up my arm.

I barely registered the stinging before Antonio dashed forward, so fast that he blurred into a bronze smear. Ducking a kick from Gilbert, Antonio lashed out at him again and hit him so hard that he went flying across the room. Liz hit the albino with something that sent a loud metallic _clang_ through the room, as though Antonio had pitched a baseball towards her and she'd responded by swinging a frying pan; she didn't send him out the window, but he stopped and stared at Antonio with a distressed look before running out of the room. Roderich raced after him, shouting something in - was that German?

Nat's eyes were dark, wide, and sorrowful as she reached up to cover her nose. "I- I'm sorry, Lovino," she mumbled, ducking out of the room. Liz followed, and Francis heaved a sigh, walking towards Antonio.

He clapped him on the shoulder. "Go talk to Gil. There's only so much Roderich can do." Then the blonde turned and ambled away.

Antonio left too soon for me to see his face.

Arthur, still standing by the window and watching solemnly, walked over to me and helped me up. "We'll have to stitch that up," he said after a moment's examination.

I nodded, frowning. Antonio's reaction was still nagging me - but not cause I was _worried_. Fft, no.

* * *

The doc led me to a different office, a larger, more spacious room with macabre paintings of demons and middle-age surgeries hanging on the walls. He pulled out a first-aid kit and started the nasty-ass work of stitching my arm back up.

"God, I told her not to throw a party," I muttered, gripping the table as Arthur extracted shards of glass from the gash on my upper arm.

"It's not your fault, lad," said Arthur, the steady _clink-clink_ of him dropping glass into a bowl really not dispelling the whole vampire creepiness thing of the room. "You'll have to forgive Gilbert. He doesn't follow our diet, as you might've noticed from his eye color, so human blood still sends him into a frenzy."

"How do you guys do it?"

He laughed. "When you're as old as us -"

"Don't remind me," I shuddered.

"- you find lots of time to practice. Nat and Liz were both going to go hunting tonight, which was why they couldn't stay around. A hungry vegetarian still finds the scent of meat appealing, even when they've not had it for years." He set down the tweezers, exchanging them for a curved needle and thin black thread. Oh, god, I hate needles...

"So why _did_ you all switch to tofu?" I asked.

Arthur snorted at the analogy, stitching quickly but precisely. "I wanted to be a doctor."

Wondering how obvious my dubious thoughts were, I deadpanned, "You wanted to be a doctor."

"Yep." He snipped the thread and tied it. "But that really didn't start till maybe the 1800s..."

"And _why_ did you want to be a doctor?"

"I wanted to help people. Even if I am damned, I want to go to Hell knowing I did _something_ right."

I arched a brow. Damned? Well, I didn't know this guy's past and couldn't make any stupid statements like, _oh, you could never be damned!_ so instead I asked, "Why would you be damned?"

He paused. "Well, in all technicalities, we're dead. Somehow we still pump venom bodies instead of blood, and we can get boners, but we're pretty damn dead. The fact that we move makes us zombies, and zombies don't have souls."

Wait. What?

"So...that's it, then? That's why Antonio won't change me?"

"Imagine the situation in reverse," said Arthur as he lit a match and dropped it into the bowl, setting the bandages aflame. "If you believed as Antonio does, would you be willing to take his soul?"

Antonio took me home shortly after, his face expressionless the whole drive home. I'd changed out of the dress, back into my jeans and long-sleeved shirt to avoid awkward questioning from Ludwig. When he pulled up in front of my house, we sat there in silence for a few moments.

"Idiot," I grumbled, crossing my arms. "You can't protect me from everything. Something's gonna separate us, and it'll probably be related to my fragile little human state. The only solution is to change me."

"That's not a solution. It's a tragedy." His voice was cold, and he got out of the car, flitting around and opening the door for me before I could even reach for my seatbelt.

I stood and got out, brushing off my pants.

"Lovi," he pleaded; I glanced up. "Don't you understand how I feel about you?"

"Arthur told me. That bullshit about your soul," I yawned. "And I don't believe it. So don't worry about stealing my chance at heaven or whatever."

He didn't seem happy. "You should go inside."

I slammed the car door and turned to face him, stepping closer. He backpedaled for a few steps, till I shouted for him to stop moving; thankfully, he complied, and I fidgeted.

"It's still my birthday," I mumbled. "Can I ask for something?" His expression made it obvious that he thought I was going to ask him to change me or some bull, so before he said no, I demanded, "Kiss me."

Antonio smiled crookedly and leaned in, bringing his hands up to settle loosely around my throat as I reached for his face, pulling him close and pressing our lips together. He licked at my lower lip and I opened my mouth, letting his tongue in and wrangling with it; I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him closer.

As awesome as kissing is, it's not that fun when you're kissing a marble wall who thinks his every move will hurt you. Just as we were _getting_ somewhere, he pulled away, a trail of spit connecting his marble lips to my surely-bruised ones.

"_T-ti amo_," I managed to grumble. He smiled and kissed my forehead.

"_Ti amo troppo_," he said with a smile before turning and walking away, vanishing pretty quickly into the night.

I turned to grab my car keys, and swore colorfully when I noticed that I'd brought the dress and high heels home.

* * *

So those photos didn't go online as I'd dreaded. Liz emailed them to me and I printed them out; she'd taken more than I thought. Unfortunately, they were all of Antonio hugging me and shit, but I stuck them down that plasticky divider thingy on my school bio binder anyway. I mean, when you've got a boyfriend as attractive as mine, why not show him off?

Antonio didn't show for school that day; I sat with Lieve and the others, instead of with him, at lunch, but that was fine.

When I got home, I saw him standing rather awkwardly positioned by the house.

"Why weren't you at school, bastard?" I huffed, pulling my glasses off. "Bio was such a -"

He made a motion with his head towards that random-ass forest we've got instead of a proper, safe, fenced backyard. "Come and take a walk with me," said Antonio. He wasn't smiling.

Oh. My. God. He _interrupted_ me? Asshole better be happy that I like him, or else I'd have fucked his shit up. Seeing that I did like him, I dropped my bag by the front door, stuffed my hands into the pockets of my trench coat and followed him. He walked pretty deep into the forest and stopped suddenly, turning to face me with a blank expression.

"We have to leave Forks."

Huh. I frowned and pulled my hands out of my pockets, breathing on them and rubbing them together to try and get some warmth back in. "Leave...why?"

"People are starting to notice that we haven't changed in three years. Arthur and Francis are supposed to be ten years older than they look, for one."

So I stuck my hands back into my pocket, various warming attempts failing. "...is this the part where I make up some story to tell Ludwig?"

He didn't reply, but dragged his smoldering gaze up to my face in a manner that made me feel stupid.

_Me_? Feel _stupid_? Hah! Not on my watch.

My stomach sank, and I scowled. "By 'we'...?"

"I mean my family and I," he elaborated.

"A-Antonio, what happened with Gilbert - it was nothing!" I hated that I was stammering.

"You're right. It was nothing but what I'd always expected, and nothing compared to what could have happened." He sighed. "You don't belong with me, Lovi."

I crossed my arms. "Yes, I do."

"Lovi..." I wouldn't have called his voice pleading; it was more dejected, like an adult who just wants their annoying kid to let them sleep.

"Well, either way, I'm coming with you." Looked like Antonio wouldn't be _getting _any sleep.

And oh _god_, that came out totally wrong.

"No, you're not."

Whoa, anyone else get a déjà-vû right there?

"Yes, I -"

"Lovi. I don't _want _you to come."

I blinked, my mouth dry as I echoed. "You don't want me?"

He was almost glaring now. "No."

"Well, that...changes things. A lot." I swallowed and started formulating arguments I could present to make him stay.

"But if it's not too much to ask...can you promise me something?"

I felt about to screech. _BASTARD, YOU'RE _DUMPING ME_ IN THE MIDDLE OF A GODFORSAKEN _FOREST_! YOU DON'T HAVE THE _RIGHT _TO -_

His voice cut through my high-pitched shouting as he stated, "Don't be reckless. Stay out of trouble, for Ludwig's sake."

_- _ESPECIALLY_ SOMETHING LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING -_

"And I'll promise you something in return. You'll never see me again, Lovi. I won't come back, and you can go on with your life as though I never existed."

_- GO DIE IN A FUCKING _DITCH_, ASSHOLE!_

It's a wonder that I kept all that down...

Eh. I wanted to _strangle _him more than I wanted to lose my voice shouting at him. "Antonio, you idiot! If this is about my _soul_, you can fucking take it! I don't _want _it without you!"

"It's not about your soul, Lovi," he sighed. "You're just not good for me."

"Not good _enough_?" I hissed, digging my nails into my palms. The long sleeves on my jacket kept my long fingernails from cutting my skin, which was probably good; I didn't much want Antonio jumping on me and trying to drink my blood. That really wouldn't help the already frantic situation. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I'm sorry I let this go on so long."

God, I am _Lovino Romano Vargas_, and the Vargas family _does not -_ "Please," I begged, and my fucking lacrimal ducts must have been acting up because my eyes were wet with tears. "Don't..."

He looked up, face still stony, and said in a voice that sounded far too cheerful for this setting, "Goodbye."

I struggled to form words as he stepped up to me and kissed my forehead gently, before turning and practically vanishing.

"Antonio."

No response.

"Antonio."

I stomped my foot on the forest floor and shrieked.

"WELL, FUCK YOU TOO, YOU ASSHOLE! I NEVER LIKED YOU EITHER! WHAT NOW, YOU SORRY, SPARKLY EXCUSE FOR A VAMPIRE? _WHAT NOW_?"

It wasn't like I expected the forest to reply, but I stalked off in the direction Antonio had gone, screeching his name like a banshee.

"YOU BASTARD! NOW I'M FUCKING _LOST _BECAUSE OF YOU!"

It got dark quickly, the sounds of evening life loud around me. I tripped over a branch and landed on my palms, sitting back up and leaning against a tree trunk, sniffling and pulling my knees up to my chest as I buried my face into my arms.

"What the hell, you bastard..."

* * *

**A/N: **NOOOO SPAAAAAIN -sobs-

Okay, so, I _know_ I promised that he wouldn't be gone till at least chapter 3, but...orz there's only so much between the party and him leaving. I blew it up as much as possible, and still...''''orz I hope you guys don't hate me!

And now here comes the challenging part. If the idea of Rumano squicks you, don't worry too much about it because it ain't gonna be here for a damn good time - three or four chapters, at least. Sure, Russia'll be all _HEY BABY_ to Romano, but Romano won't be all _-GIRLISH GIGGLE- HI- I MEAN, ER, FUCK OFF! _till the chapter before Lizzie returns. Which is maybe five or six chapters off. c:

Aaaand that's basically it with the heavy!

I'm not gonna have any prizefics till I finish the ones I've still got (but those should be done by the chapter after next, so don't worry~) so sorry :(

Love youuuu. Thanks for reading, and thanks Lily!

**Notes: **

*"_Mais..._._N'est-ce pas, mon ange_?" - "But...Isn't that right, my angel?"

*MyFace - don't own either MySpace or Facebook c:

*Switch - is a gay BDSM erotica by Claire Thompson. I've never read it but it's got good reader reviews, so...-twiddles thumbs-


	3. metaphors

**Disclaimer: Nope~!**

**A/N: **A-ahaha, well, erm. S-sorry about that three-month hiatus there...the truth is that while my mother took my computer away, I got it back on the eighteenth of December (orz;;;;) and just never got around to updating. And I've fallen out of love with Spamano, but it's unfair to not finish this story just because of that, so, well. Here you go :)

And d'aww, man, if I knew I was gonna lose so many readers because Spain left...:'( I'm sorry about that, lol. Ehh, but you'll get to see Romabella swearing at Ruscob _pretty _soon, and USA. USAAAAAA

* * *

**Chapter 3 - metaphors. I love them, don't you?**

So I had a really weird dream. _Again_. Ever since that bastard skipped gayly into my life, I've been having these funky-ass dreams - kind of like cold medicine dreams, but even stranger. This one, thankfully, wasn't as disturbing or scarring as that one nightmare I had of Antonio in that frilly pink apron. Nah, this one had like, this huge fucking bear-wolf thingy the size of a police car. Its fur was dark, nearly black, and two bright blue eyes stared out at me. It growled, and I woke up.

There was cold water on my face and soaking my hair and clothes. I sputtered, sitting up and rubbing the rainwater out of my eyes. Damn Forks, raining all the bloody time. Couldn't it find something better to do? Shivering, I scooted back under the protection of that giant tree I'd tripped over, the leaves and branches providing enough cover from the downpour as I glowered at the sky, too tired to really think. I sat there for a while, probing around in my half-drenched bag and thanking the Lord that I had decided to buy a waterproof bag before coming here. Most of my stuff was dry, although there was no saving my copy of Romeo and Juliet; I'd not zipped the bag completely and water had dripped straight down. Eh. Better that than a textbook, I guess. My phone was almost dead; it was in that irritating stage where it buzzes every five seconds to remind you to charge it, but the clock was working and read 10:24 PM. Damn. How long'd I been out?

When the rain stopped, I vaguely heard someone calling me. I opened my mouth to reply, but my throat was constricted and my mouth felt like sandpaper; rolling my eyes, I leaned back. I could probably paw through my bag for my phone and use the GPS, but I didn't want to at the moment. The clouds parted, ever so slightly, and I nearly started at the utter blackness of a new moon. And then the memories of the afternoon hit me like a brick to the face.

I registered the same booming voice hollering my name, but hardly replied. Antonio's face, clear as day in my mind, was scowling much like he had when he left me in this damn forest, and I swallowed hard. Curling up, I rested my head on my knees and wrapped my arms around my legs, shaking slightly with sobs.

I mean, um, _rage_. Yeah. Because I was gonna _kill_ that bastard next time I saw him.

Someone shouted once more, and it sounded surprisingly close. I peered up and glanced around the still, nearly-silent forest; nobody was there, and I regretted watching that Marble Wasp* thingy a few days ago because my current situation was scary as fuck.

A twig snapped somewhere nearby, and I heard heavy breathing and footsteps - like that of a bear. I went rigid and desperately racked my brain for knowledge on what to do when approached by a crazy rabid bear; I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn't notice when the noises stopped. A second later, a tall man stepped out of the darkness in front of me, and my throat was too dry for me to shout.

Eh. At least he didn't _look_ like an axe murderer. He was your stereotypical Southerner, if I were to juxtapose him with the Georgians I'd met when I went with Mom a few years ago to Savannah* - messy gold hair, tanned skin, broad shoulders, and painfully blue eyes. The color reminded me of something, but I couldn't recall what at the moment; his cloying voice kept me from thinking much.

"Hey-a! You Lovino?" He didn't have much of an accent, but it was obviously Georgian - just a lilt, subtler than Commie Jr's Russian accent, but still there.

"Stranger danger," I grumbled to myself. "But yeah. Why?"

He ignored my question, opting instead for a blinding grin. "Coolbeans! Come on, Ludwig's worried sick." Before I could protest, Blondie practically swept me off the ground and skipped away merrily.

I clung to him for dear life. Ever been carried bridal-style (which, in this situation, means "five feet off the fucking ground", cuz the bastard was _huge_) through a dark forest by a guy who looked strong enough to kill you with a well-aimed flick of his fingers?

Well, it sucks balls.

He hummed under his breath a tune I recognized from the 1992 episodes of that show Superbat*, and soon I heard barking. Police dogs? Loud male voices were barely audible over the frenzied yipping.

And then Blondie started talking, consequently bursting my eardrums. Even though five seconds of his shouts had deafened me, his gratingly bubbly voice still hurt. I groaned and punched him half-heartedly as he practically broke into a run. And the only thing that sucks more than being carried by someone who's skipping is being carried by someone who's _running_, so I whacked him harder and shrieked - er, hissed in pain because his fucking torso was harder than a concrete wall.

The buzzing in my ears eventually faded, just in time for me to catch a gruff, "- found him?"

"Of course I found him! I'm the hero, after all, hahaha!"

I scowled and kicked, shouting for him to let me down. I didn't know why this guy was holding me anyway, or - as he leaned his head back to avoid my flying fists - who the hell he was. He might've been insanely warm, but seriously.

"Okay, okay!" He laughed stupidly and set me down. My legs and knees wobbled, my head was pounding, my back hurt from sleeping on the forest floor, and a huge German Shepherd decided to jump on me, flattening me out with the force.

"ARGH! Aksel, gerroff!" I shrieked in a _manly_ way as the dog set to work eating my face. Flailing around, I was real happy when someone pulled the dog off, even though my savior hugged me so tightly I thought my ribs would break.

"Gott, why did you go off into the woods?" demanded a harsh German accent, and I automatically felt guilty for worrying my dad. Even if he _was_ German. Ludwig was rubbing his temples, and said, "I told you how dangerous it is, especially at night. You remind me so much of Feliciano, it's not even -"

I snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Great." I had planned to say something more, but terrorists - or, in this case, tall and ridiculously buff blonde boys with blue eyes - derailed my train of thought*. The guy who'd carried me out of the woods coughed 'discreetly' (which was, in all honesty, loud and annoying) to get our attention. I crossed my arms, turning to face him with a sneer. "What do you want? Who are you, anyway?"

He beamed, obviously prepared for this situation, and struck a heroic pose. "Alfred Francisco Jones*, the hero, at your service!"

"Shut up, you Capitalist pig," said another, more cheerful albeit raspier voice from behind me. Oh, god, why was _he_ here? I groaned in despair and turned to see none other than Ivan Braginski - you know, that creepy-ass Communist dude who keeps trying to kill people with his pipe? Yeah. He had his trademark scarf wound around his throat and a distasteful look on his face aimed at Alfred. "Nobody cares enough about you to hear your false perceptions of being heroic."

Alfred scoffed. "Hah! As if you're one to say that people don't wanna listen to me, Commiezombie."

Ludwig had gone back over to the police cars parked by the station, and I heard them discussing the Kirkland-Bonnefois family. "They've left," offered Alfred cheerily. I scowled.

Tch. Bastards, the lot of them. Except maybe Liz, I liked her even though she was half crazy. Why did those assholes leave?

And Antonio...

Both Alfred and Commie Jr looked surprised as I stomped my foot angrily and swore loudly in Italian, imagining Antonio's face in place of the dirt on the ground.

And _no_, thinking of Antonio again didn't make me burst into tears.

When Ludwig and I returned home, I went straight upstairs. "You don't want dinner?" asked a surprised Ludwig; I shook my head and scowled.

"Leave me alone. If I'm hungry, I'll eat," I grumbled under my breath, stomping up the steps. He could probably tell how bad my mood was, even though he didn't yet know why; well, maybe, he did know already and was emotionally constipated or just didn't want to harass me with clichéd are-you-okays. Like I care.

It was a little after midnight. Either way, there was dirt all over me and leaves and twigs and stuff stuck in my hair, so I went in for a shower and just stared at the wall for twenty minutes. Ludwig must have thought I'd drowned (normally I grace the world with my glorious singing voice while I'm showering) because he banged on the door a few minutes later, and I blinked in surprise.

And I guess that I had drowned. Not physically, but mentally: in the short time we'd been together, Antonio and I had fused in a vaguely disturbing manner, as though there had been a part of my soul that specifically matched with a part of Antonio's. Like we'd always been meant for each other. The sudden loss of him was nearly too much to bear.

"Go away!" I shouted at Ludwig, leaning against the shower wall with my head in my hands and drowning in my metaphorical sea of misery.

As it turns out, I'm a shitty swimmer.

* * *

"That's it," announced Ludwig one morning in July, slamming his fist on the table. I turned my head from where I stood at the sink, washing the dishes manually out of boredom.

"What's it?" I replied.

"I'm sending you to Venice, to live with your mother." He shook his head and sighed. "Lovino, he left months ago. If you're sad, be sad. Don't bottle it up like this. I'd rather you burst into tears every five seconds than hate everything."

No, I couldn't swim to shore, but I _could_ float on my back and wait for the tide to do that for me. I didn't see a problem with denying the sadness or having nightmares - as long as I kept it all locked away, where it wouldn't hurt anyone else, the pain didn't matter. My heart was still - ugh - _broken_ over Antonio's abandonment, but there wasn't anything I could do about that except pretend that I was all better. Everyone at school had been surprised by my "speedy recovery", and nobody suspected that I was suffering at all - well, nobody except Ludwig, and he only knew because he'd had the misfortune to hear me whimpering in my sleep. Suddenly he knew why my fan was always on high even though it was below freezing at night.

I scowled and crossed my arms. "I don't want to go."

"Seeing your mother might help -"

"I don't _need_ any help!" I shouted, whacking the faucet handle to turn off the tap.

He exhaled through his nose, obviously trying to keep himself from shouting. "Lovino, I think you need to see someone."

"You mean, like, a _shrink_?" I spat the word out like it was contagious.

Trust Ludwig to be blunt; he nodded and didn't even try to deny my accusation. "It's not healthy for you to act this way. Everyone experiences heartbreak. Even I did, when Feliciano took you and left. The weeks afterwards were some of the worst of my life."

I rolled my eyes.

"But the point is that I got over it. Antonio left four months ago, Lovino, and he's not coming back." He sighed heavily, ice blue eyes sad as he looked at me. "Feliciano and I are worried sick about you. I haven't told him about the nightmares -" I winced. "- but if I have to, I will."

I never remembered the nightmares, but I knew that they were always the same. I woke up shuddering, crying half of the time, and occasionally with Ludwig standing over me even though I didn't scream. I _knew_ I didn't scream, because otherwise Ludwig would've known from the very beginning that I wasn't sleeping well.

"And you hardly go out with your friends anymore."

"That's cuz it's summer break! And I still talk to them," I protested. It was true, because while everyone pissed me off, I still made a point of making conversation with them. I was determined not to sink into a vegetative depression, the way one of my Phoenix friends had done when she found out that her boyfriend of three years had spent two and a half of those years secretly screwing her ex. That sort of lifeless existence looked terrible, and I'd rather be known as a whiny bitch than as the loser moping in the corner.

"I'll be late for work if I don't leave now." I'd gotten a job at the local Starbucks, for lack of anything else to do; still a month left of summer break, after all. The best part about my job was getting to take home a pound of coffee beans every two weeks, and knowing how to make all those drinks at home. Mum was overjoyed when I sent him the recipe for his favorite chai tea latte.

But my job was good, and I rarely had to mind the register. I mean, I did on morning shifts because most of the morning customers were women, but at 10AM I switched out with one of the other baristas and took over the kitchenette area. Afternoon shifts, I never worked the counter. But I liked the place - working took my mind off things, and it was fun to watch people and eavesdrop on their conversations. S'not my fault that they talk so loud.

Today's shift was an afternoon one, and it passed quickly. I checked out just after four PM, but needed to get some shopping done (because my favorite flannel shirt had shrunk in the wash the weekend before) so I hopped on the 101 and drove the hour or so to Port Angeles. I strolled around the shops until around 9 o'clock, and decided to grab something from one of the cafés before heading home.

The walk to my favorite café took me past an alleyway, and though I normally go right past it, I stopped when I heard a soft female voice nearly drowned out by snickers from a boy. I frowned and peered into the alley, scowling when I saw a small blond girl practically pressed against the wall by three men; about to shout for them to leave her alone, I heard someone whisper to me. _Keep walking_.

I jolted, because I recognized that voice even after four months of not hearing it.

Fucking Antonio, couldn't he leave me alone? _You promised you wouldn't do anything reckless, Lovi,_ said the voice in my head, and I grimaced, shaking my head to rid the voices.

Then I remembered the girl down the alley, and turned to stride closer. "Hey!"

The guys circled around her turned and glared at me. "Beat it, kid. We're a bit busy here, in case you can't tell." He reached out and ran his fingers through her light hair, and she jerked her head away from him angrily.

"Leave her alone, dammit," I ordered, crossing my arms.

Snickering, one of the men responded, "You gonna make us?"

I side-kicked him in the ribs despite the voice telling me not to make a scene. The other guy jumped in, and I punched him.

Beating people up, especially after so long, felt great...except that it was also harder than I remembered it being, because it had been, what, seven or eight months since I'd gotten into a brawl. One of them hooked me in the jaw, and probably would've gotten more if that girl hadn't socked him in the nose; I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the alley quickly, trying to escape the three men. We managed to, hiding in the shadows by the mouth of the alley until they were gone.

As soon as their enraged shouts had faded, I burst into laughter.

She looked at me like I was crazy, and I wiped my eyes. "That was ridiculously fun," I chortled, wiping my palms off on my jeans before kissing her hand. "Lovino Vargas. It's nice to meet you, miss."

The girl giggled, and I blinked; she looked familiar. "I'm Lily Zwingli. Thanks for saving me back there."

Zwingli? "Oh! Are you related to Mr. Zwingli, by any chance?" I asked. "The AP Bio teacher at Forks High?"

"Yep. I'm his baby sister," smiled Lily. "I live with him."

...well, she _looked_ sane. Saner than her brother, at least, because while she _hadn't _blown a fuse and killed those three men, I didn't doubt that she was perfectly capable of doing so. I paled a little and hoped she didn't notice. "So, Lily, what're you doing in Port Angeles so late?"

"It's not _that_ late," she defended shyly, reaching up and rubbing a few strands of hair between her fingers. "I needed to pick up something for Bruder."

"Huh. Well, I was going to get dinner; feel like coming along?" I offered with a smile.

She beamed. "I'd love to."

Lily was absolutely adorable, the sweetest kid I'd ever met. She was, despite her round cheeks and, erm, _boyish appearance_, seventeen years old, although she went to a different high school than me. Dinner was fun, and I walked her to the parking lot afterwards, thankful that she'd driven here herself because I doubted that Mr. Zwingli would appreciate me dropping his little sister home at 11PM.

Driving home alone gave me time to think. I'd definitely heard Antonio's voice before that fight...now, how could I hear it again?

* * *

Two days later, I had a morning shift at Starbucks.

Unfortunately, on this particular day, I failed to notice the shiny black Hummer waiting right in front of the door. As I got out of my car, shoved my hands in my pockets, and made for the steps in front of the entrance, a pair of large, warm hands covered my eyes and pulled me backwards into a broad chest. I shrieked and lashed out.

"WHAT THE FUCK? LET GO!"

"Oh, that is very mean," said Commie Jr, and I could hear the pout in his words. The blood drained from my face as I realized that the guy was probably going to kill me for screaming at him; thankfully, though, he let go. I jumped away from him and turned around anxiously. He looked cheerful enough, but...whoa, had he gotten taller? And buffer? "And since I haven't seen you in so long! Four months, _da_?"

"Four months isn't nearly long enough," I muttered under my breath.

He continued as though I'd never interrupted him, grinning enthusiastically. "Yet it looks like you've grown even frailer!" Reaching out, he gripped my arm and shook it as if to accentuate his words.

"You look like you've been taking steroids every morning," I retorted sourly, wrestling my wrist away from him and massaging it; the bastard was strong.

Sighing, he patted my head hard enough that my knees nearly buckled under the force. "I seem to be experiencing yet another growth spurt. They are terrible..." Then he beamed. "Anyway, I was thinking of going cliff diving today. Care to join me?"

Cliff diving? I frowned; what the hell was that? I didn't get to think on it, though, because an achingly familiar voice whispered, _reject him._

Huh. Well, apparently I've finally cracked enough to hallucinate Antonio's voice twice. And it looked like stupid decisions, or the prospect of making them, would let me hear my ex-boyfriend more.

So I turned and shrugged. Sure, why not.

And thirty minutes later, when we were driving towards this giant cliff, I regretted my choice deeply. _Told you not to go, didn't I?_ "Shut up," I grumbled, though my voice was drowned out by the radio.

"That is the cliff I usually jump from," he said as we passed it. "That capitalist pig has been trying to get me to jump from higher up, an area just a few minutes from here, but I do not want to break all the bones in my body again." God, that sounded menacing. Shouldn't breaking every bone in his body once before have killed him?

The one he took me to was still pretty damn high. I felt my knees shake as I peered over the edge, praying to God that I wouldn't die. It wasn't that cold, but the water looked freezing. "How high up is this again?" I asked nervously, pulling my long-sleeved shirt off over my head and undoing my belt.

Commie Jr shrugged as he dropped his cell phone onto the pile he'd made with his shoes and hoodie. For some reason, he left the scarf on. "I'm not actually sure, but I know that jumping wrong will break your legs."

I swallowed hard and turned to look over the edge again. He slapped my ass and pushed me off the cliff.

I screeched all the way down, barely registering Commie Jr's booming laughter. In fact, I barely registered my own screams, because I was too busy listening to Antonio's voice reprimanding me.

Commie Jr jumped just a few moments after me, landing with a giant splash; he burst into laughter when he saw my bedraggled state, wrapped one massive arm around my shoulders, and pulled me to shore. "That was fun. Another go?" I nodded, even though my teeth were chattering.

As soon as I got home, I practically ran into the shower. My body felt frostbitten, and it hurt like a bitch as the blood started flowing again. When I got out, Ludwig had returned home, and he asked me how my day was. "I heard you and Ivan went cliff diving?"

I nodded. "Scary as hell, but what a _rush_."

"Don't become an adrenaline junkie on me, now," he warned, and I hollered at him for ever thinking that I'd let myself get addicted to something.

Even though I kind of did. The next morning, I surveyed the junkyard and saved two beat-up motorbikes from death by metal compacting, even though I had to pay one of the workers to help me heft the things into the back of my truck. In case you don't remember or in case I never told you, Commie Jr is a pretty good mechanic, and I had no doubt that he'd be able to fix the motorbikes.

I grinned the whole drive to his place, mostly because Antonio's voice was hissing angrily at me the whole time.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh, god, this is such a shitty chapter. I had to change a lot of stuff, as you can see; for one, I cut the scene with the movie Bella and Jessica went to, on the grounds that most gangs aren't gay and so wouldn't be calling for Romano, and instead put it that he saved Liechtenstein (this'll come up later). For two, this is during summer break, because Romano's birthday party was in April and I put a gap of like three-four months between then and the latter half of this chapter; three, he only hears Antonio's voice and doesn't see him.

The fourth and most obvious change is that, since Romano and Bella are such different characters, Romano doesn't sink into such a mind-breaking depression. Originally, I did have something along those lines, but a friend of mine who's really, really good at acting told me (after I described the situation I was writing to her) that it would be more likely for Romano to hate his boyfriend and be angry at everything - except girls, because he's still a ladies' man no matter how sad he is.

Uhm, yeah. This would be longer, but I can't make it longer without breaking the chapter outline I had. Thanks to Lily for beta-ing, and thanks to you guys for reading ;)

**Notes: **

*Marble Wasp - my spin on that set of videos on YouTube, Marble Hornet, which play out a documentary-style story of the Slenderman.

*Savannah - so I'm obsessed with L4D2. Don't judge me!

*Superbat - ...that's what happens when you're looking through the Young Justice thread on /y/ and surfing the crossover sections. I don't own either Superman or Batman, but both have recognizable themes, so you can have Superbat. cx

*Terrorists - the original joke there is terrorists derailing your train of thought. I mean no offense by this, so please don't go bitchmode on me lol.

*Francisco - it's one of the USA names on RP FB. c:


	4. drinking and driving

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize~**

**A/N:** Okay, I started writing this on the twenty-sixth of January so that I wouldn't fail-wail and not update for three more months. Cx and also because report cards are coming out soon, so if my mother takes my computer I wanna give you guys warning of it through this A/N, lol.

This chapter has underage drinking, although for Russia it's like drinking water. Either way, it's not good, so don't do it.

THE ECLIPSE SOUNDTRACK IS AMAZING. "OURS", "HEAVY IN YOUR ARMS", AND "MY LOVE" ARE MY FAVES 8D

As always, thanks to Lily for beta-reading! :)

MY NEW GOAL FOR THIS STORY IS TO MAKE YOU READERS SHIP RUMANO.

* * *

**Chapter 4 - drinking and driving**

I had to call Ludwig and ask him for Commie Jr's address because I'd never asked the Russian myself. Ludwig sounded surprised, but he told me anyway. I said I needed it because I'd forgotten my headphones when we went cliff diving and wanted to get them back.

The Braginski house was situated farther off than most others in the neighborhood, with a huge expanse of lawn that blended into the forest and a big barn a few dozen meters from the driveway. While the barn looked like a stereotypical barn with its peeling red walls and dark shingle rooftiles, the house itself looked really modern - the paint was light, cloudy grey, and the roof a contrasting maroon. The well-tended garden (I snickered at the sudden image of either Commie Jr or his grandfather, Mr. Winter, in a wide-brimmed hat and gardening gloves) overflowed with bright gold sunflowers, but even though it would've been a cozy home for anyone else, it looked cold and unloving with the Braginskis living there.

I pulled up, and the sound of my truck's engine probably alerted Commie Jr to my arrival. He poked his head out of the barn and beamed widely, striding over with something that looked like a wine bottle in his hands. As he came closer, I saw the red-and-white label wrapped around the bottle's midsection, with STOLICHNAYA* written in bold white letters along the top border.

And then I noticed that he was swaying ever so slightly.

Oh, shit. Was he drunk?

"Privyet, Lovino," he said, and while I didn't detect any slurring I did see notice the slight haziness in his eyes. "What brings you here today?"

"A belated birthday present," I deadpanned, pointing at the bed of my truck. "Brought you two motorbikes that I thought you might have fun fixing."

The blonde inclined his head slightly and ambled to the truck, pulling the tarp off my truck and dropping it on the wet grass. Crossing his arms, he lifted the bottle of vodka to his lips and took a few swallows as he examined the bikes.

I fidgeted. "Thought you might like them," I mumbled, more to myself than to him.

Finally, he turned and beamed. "Well, thank you! They'll probably cost more to fix than they're worth, but I can get the parts." He paused for a second. "As to why there's two of them...I assume you want one?"

"Yep," I nodded. "When I went to get yours, I saw a second one and thought, why not?" That hadn't been the case at all, but the Russian Inquisition didn't need to know that.

"And you were just looking for a birthday present, hmm?"

I swore. "Why're you asking so many questions? It's not like I planted a bomb in them. If you don't want the bikes, just say so."

I regretted my outburst immediately as he turned his pale eyes, looking at me down his nose and his vodka bottle. I thought he was gonna hit me with the damn thing; thankfully, he didn't, but instead laughed.

"Oh, I want the bikes," he said. "I'm just inquiring as to the nature of this 'gift'."

"Well, don't," I grumbled. "So, you'll fix them?"

Commie Jr rubbed his chin between two fingers and frowned thoughtfully. "Fixing two-wheeled death machines, hiding the production from our respective guardians, and stealing parts from that damn capitalist's garage?"

...damn. It sounded like a really stupid plan.

Then, with another abrupt mood change, he practically giggled. "When do we start?"

I blinked. "Um. Now?"

"Sounds good," he agreed cheerily, practically shoving the alcohol bottle into my hands as he rolled up his long sleeves. I squinted; small burns, several of them, littered his inner forearms, as well as a strange set of four evenly-spaced and twisting scars on his left arm. All of them looked old, stretched and faded with time. Commie Jr must have noticed my scrutiny because he hastily pushed his sleeves back down and tried to avoid any discussion about it by reaching for the bikes.

"Be careful with those, they're actually really -" I stopped midspeech, eyes bugging as he hefted the bikes up easily, one and then the other, without much strain. "- heavy," I finished lamely. "Holy shit, bro. Didn't you ever take health? Steroids are bad for you."

Grinning, he flexed playfully. His biceps strained against the stretch cotton shirt, and I laughed nervously. This guy would be able to _crush_ me likea soda can if he decided to.

As he wheeled the bikes into the garage, he gave them another examination. "Hmm...well, we might be able to scrounge a few parts at the scrapyard, but it'll probably still take a little over a hundred dollars to fix these."

"I'll pay," I nodded. A hundred dollars wasn't bad at all; getting the bikes fixed at an actual garage would've taken much more.

He looked at me dubiously. "Why? I can swipe what we need from -"

I waved him off. "Stealing's bad. Besides, it's not that much." Pursing his lips, Ivan propped the bikes up against the barn wall and sighed mournfully.

"I suppose." He sounded dejected.

"And then you'll have to teach me how to use the things," I added, frowning as I realized that. "Do you know how to ride a motorcycle? Actually, are you even legal?" I stared pointedly at the bottle of vodka he held.

"Nope," said Ivan, popping the 'p' and grinning mischeviously. "Turned sixteen last December."

I gaped. "What the hell? I'm older than you?"

Blinking, he straightened up from where he had crouched in front of the bikes, fiddling with something or other. "I guess...how old are you, forty?"

"Eighteen last April," I grumbled with a scowl. Thinking of my birthday pissed me off all over again, reminding me why I was here and risking my life around a volatile Russian. Antonio should be proud that I'd go through so much pain to hear his damn voice again.

Ivan walked over and stood right in front of me, leveling a hand over my head and to his body to judge the height difference. I reddened; I hardly came up to his shoulders. "You're so tiny!" he laughed, patting my head. "You remind me of a friend of mine, Raivis. He is very small and trembly, but says the funniest things..."

Scowling, I sat on a cardboard box a few feet away from the entrance. "Tch. Can you teach me how to ride a motorbike?"

"Of course I can," he nodded, kneeling again in front of the bikes. "Here, let's start looking through the bikes first to see what we need to get. Could you pass me that wrench?"

* * *

The next morning, Ivan greeted me at the driveway in red flannel pajama pants, pink bunny slippers, a long-sleeved black shirt that strained over his muscles, and his customary scarf wrapped around his throat. Today's was light beige and more a neckerchief than a full scarf. He gripped a half-full bottle of vodka loosely in one hand, but I didn't pay much attention to that; I was more concerned with when he'd gotten so buff. It looked like his muscle mass had doubled between yesterday and today...

Jesus. I wondered when he'd starting working out so much, because he had an eight-pack and ridiculously broad shoulders. "Mr. Buffness," I snorted in greeting. "Drinking at 11 in the morning?"

Smiling, he lifted the bottle and offered it to me. I shook my head and he shrugged, taking another swig before setting the bottle down on the patio table with a clink. "Your engine woke me up..." He yawned hugely and reached up to scratch at his head, turning around and motioning for me to come inside.

"Sorry," I said, not apologetic in the least as I followed him into the house and slipped my shoes off. "And your house is really nice." The inside was just like the outside - homey, with fluffy carpet and light gold curtains, but still cold and icy.

"Katya* decorated it before she left," he explained, probing around in the kitchen. "Want anything to eat?"

"Nah, I'm good." I took the time to examine the photo frames and little bric-a-brac on the mantle. Some of the pictures had Miss Braginskaya in them, which was unsurprising as she was Ivan's older sister. There was one picture with the two of them as kids. Ivan looked seven or eight, Miss Braginskaya seemed about sixteen or so, and there was a third girl with long pale hair tied up in a high ponytail in between the two, grinning toothily at the camera. She looked to be about five. There were two adults in the background, a tall man with pale hair and violet eyes and a woman with bronze skin and black hair who must have been Mr. and Mrs. Braginski.

"Hey, Ivan, who's this girl?" I asked, twisting my head to see him. "Your cousin or something?" The air tensed, and Ivan stepped out of the kitchen with a bowl of cereal in his hands and a stony expression on his face.

"My little sister."

I frowned. "I thought your only sibling was my lit teacher...?"

"Natasha disappeared when she was five, almost ten years ago." His tone left no room for discussion. "Let's get to work." Lifting the bowl, he gulped down whatever was left and put it in the sink, slipping into his sneakers and grabbing the vodka off the patio table. "I found half of the stuff we needed around our place, but everything on this list -" He handed me a piece of paper as he pulled his car keys out and unlocked his black Hummer. "- we'll have to pick up from either the scrapyard or a proper garage."

"Sure." I pulled my wallet out and waved it in slightly before pushing it back into my pocket, climbing into the passenger seat of the car. "Let's go, then."

He twisted the key and the engine came to life with a smooth purring noise; backing out quickly, he reached for the vodka and I grabbed the bottle before he could.

"Don't drink and drive," I grumbled. "You'll kill me, and I don't want to die yet."

Mocking me slightly under his breath, he sighed and pouted (which was really terrifying because he was radiating murderous vibes) until I handed the bottle back.

The scrapyard had some of the stuff we needed. Ivan looked overjoyed at the discovery of several pieces of twisted, blackened metal, and said that we'd just saved ourselves fifty or sixty dollars with that find. I was amazed that he could even tell what the hell they were.

After that, we had to drive down to the garage. The cheapest one was two hours away, which sucked big time. Ivan's reckless driving, though, led to lots of discussion. As he cheerfully swerved around some idiot going 40 in the fast lane, I clutched the seat and asked him in horror just _where_ he'd gotten his license.

Ivan looked thoughtful. "Well, I technically don't have it."

My face blanched. "W-what -?"

"Yekaterina taught me how to drive when I was twelve, but I never had the patience for taking those tests," elaborated the blonde. "But I drive so well that nobody stops me."

I had my own theories on why he was never stopped. "You're...a ridiculously buff sixteen-year-old. So buff that you look like you're in your twenties," I retorted. "What cop's gonna pull over a ridiculously buff sixteen-year-old who looks like he's in his twenties?"

He blinked, and then another grin spread across his face. "Oh! So there's something my height's good for?"

I facepalmed.

"You're eighteen," said Ivan in a pondering tone. "A year and a half older than me, right?"

"Eh...or so."

Grinning mischeviously, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. "But my height, buffness and handiness with machinery must give me a few years over you, right? At least three."

I clicked my tongue. "The age game? Really? Well, in that case, my skill with handling gangs gives me another two years. And your drinking-and-driving shows a lack of common sense, which deducts two years from your total. You can be...seventeen, and I'm like, twenty."

"...I'm _really_ buff and _really_ tall, though," he argued. "I'm twenty-three, at least."

"I'm good with girls, which gives me another four years."

"You're terrible with everyone else, so drop three of them."

The rest of the drive went on like this. When Ivan pulled up at the garage, he was thirty-six and I was twenty-four. "Douche," I grumbled. "Fine, die first. See if I care!"

He laughed, sincerely, and I suddenly noticed how deep and bright his laughter could sound.

* * *

**A/N: **IS MY ATTEMPT WORKING? TELL ME IF I MADE YOU LIKE RUMANO EVEN A LITTLE MORE, BECAUSE I GOTTA KNOW HOW TO ADJUST THE ONSLAUGHT OF FLUFF HERE. THE MAJOR HEAT ISN'T GOING ON TILL, LIKE, CHAPTER 9, BUT I WANNA EASE YOU INTO IT SO I DON'T SCARE YOU AWAY.

That brings me to another topic - this fic'll be about twelve or thirteen chapters, with some irregularly big ones and others that seem disproportionately small (like this one haha). Sorry about all the fluctuating word count Cx but ch5 is partly done, should be finished and uploaded by Valentine's Day unless some serious shit goes down.

I put in the age game cuz I loved that section of the book :) it's such a sweet moment there, and if I liked het I would've started shipping Jacob/Bella.

Thanks, Lily! :D

**Edit: I forgot the notes, orz**

*Stolichnaya = the most famous type of Russian vodka.

NATASHA IS NOT BELARUS. She's the random family member who can represent Siberia, and whose purpose will become apparent later. ;)


	5. motorcycle basics in 10 minutes or less

**Disclaimer: Nope~**

**A/N:** Sorry, all, I didn't mean to take so long. March is always the busiest month for me (everyone's born in March, it seems, and I'm out at one party after the next every weekend), and while my mother didn't completely destroy me for my grades, she's pissed off...either way, thanks for being so patient.  
Hope you enjoy, and as always, thanks to Lily! We collab'd this chapter 8D it was very fun. =w=  
Thank you very much to all the wonderful RP friends who helped me with the motorcycle info, as well as you people on Yahoo answers. ^^

Finally - sorry about the formatting derps. waaaah fuck you googledocssss  


* * *

**Chapter 5 - Motorcycle Basics in 10 Minutes or Less**

For the first time in months, I woke up to my alarm and not my muffled cries. At 6:30AM, I rolled over and looked at my cell phone dubiously, wondering if I was having a dream within a dream or some shit like that. Thankfully, as a quick tug on my curl proved that I was completely awake. Swinging my feet out of bed, I grabbed the towel on my chair and wrapped it around my waist, shivering as I sprinted to the bathroom for a shower.

The only pattern I could discern between the nights I got a good sleep and the nights I didn't was whether or not I'd spent time at Ivan's. It was almost as if his Russian-ness chased away the bad dreams. Hell, even Ludwig noticed the change - one morning, I called out a good morning to him and he nearly dropped his mug of Starbucks-style coffee.

Hanging out in Ivan's garage became a daily occurrence, more or less. Since it was summer break and school wouldn't start for another month, Ivan wanted to get as much of the rebuilding done as he could; my tales of junior year and the horror of it all had worried him a bit, and he admitted that his grandfather was extremely strict on grades. I agreed with him, but not because I was afraid of being massacred by Mr. Winter if Ivan brought home anything lower than a 4.0 GPA.

We'd managed to get everything on that first shopping trip, so most of our time was spent in the garage, radio drowned out under our talking. The age game was a favorite; I had to keep track of the day's tally, because we decided that when the bikes were done we'd average out our scores to get our "inner age" or whatever the hell you called it. It all sounded like a load of bull to me.

(And my wallet ached after about a week of pizzas and junk food. Ivan ate like a pig.)

He also had the bad habit of talking with his mouth full, but I let the lack of manners slide because he usually had, uh, interesting stories to share. For some reason, practically everyone on the Quileute Reservation was some kind of European. Two of Ivan's friends were Eastern Europeans, a Lithuanian and a Latvian (I don't really know the difference between them; I failed geography). "Raivis is small and trembly, and he tends to say the strangest things - rather like he actually means to insult me! And then he looks a little terrified, but I don't know why. I suppose he's okay, but really, I prefer spending time with Toris. He makes the best coffee I've ever tasted."

I scoffed. "I doubt it's better than the coffee I make."

"Well, it's better than Starbucks coffee," responded Ivan after a short pause. "Don't you work at Starbucks?"

"Shut up, that's irrelevant," I snapped irritably.

Shrugging, Ivan turned back to the engine he'd been taking apart. "I think you two would get along!"

Hah, yeah right. Toris sounded like a pussy, and I was anything but that.

No, seriously. That time when I nearly cried because I stubbed my toe was just one incident. One. Incident.

I got to meet the two of them a few days later, but it wasn't a meeting so much as an accidental meetup. No, literally - I drove over to Ivan's and saw two others leaving, and when I asked about them later Ivan said that, because I'd been late, I just missed his friends. Bastards.

* * *

Two weeks and about a thousand dollars of gas money later, the bikes were finished. Ivan had even gotten around to painting the things - both were black, to cover the scarred metal. Then, after he finished explaining the basics of handling a motorcycle, he hefted them up into the bed of my truck, and told me that we were going to test the bikes out on the mountain road a few miles from his house.

Ivan was strangely silent as we drove. I sat there, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for us to reach our destination.

"Hey, Lovi?" said Ivan suddenly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. (Bastard refused to call me 'Lovino', no matter how 'politely' I asked.) "What would you have done if I said that I couldn't fix these bikes?"

"What do you mean?" I frowned, crossing my arms and glaring at him. "Is mine gonna fall to pieces or explode or maim me in some way as soon as I use it?"

"Well, the last time I checked, no," Ivan replied cheerfully.

Well, thanks, that's very comforting, Commie bastard, I thought, but I said, "So, what's the problem?"

"It's just that...well, I think that if I was smart, I wouldn't have fixed them so quickly." He sounded sad, and really lonely. Kind of like Mom when I refused to go shopping with him, but somehow even more pathetic.

His statement set off warning sirens in my head, and I scrabbled for a response that wouldn't get me killed. "Okay, look. If you said that you couldn't fix the damn bikes, then I'd probably have just harassed you to go sky-diving with me or something. Fucking insecure loser," I grumbled.

Grinning, Ivan reached out and patted my head hard enough to push me down in the seat. "Ow, ow!" I hissed. "You could have stunted me for life!"

"Oh, nonsense! I do that to Raivis all the time, and he's perfectly fine!"

By the way, Raivis was about half a foot shorter than Toris when I saw the two, but I didn't want to call Ivan out on that. My life might depend on it.

Instead, I turned and glared out the window at the obscenely green landscape. Said obscenely green landscape gave way to obscenely blue seascape, and we passed by a group of boys. Suddenly, I saw someone get pushed off a fucking cliff, and naturally I shrieked - er, demanded that Ivan stop the car. I jumped off and ran over to the highway railing, squinting to get a better view of the guy plummeting down towards the waves. "Holy fuck! Ivan, did you see that?"

"Yeah, well, it happens all the time," he replied casually. "We reservation folk go cliff-diving here a lot - though we usually go much lower down. Those guys you see up there are probably with that fucktard Alfred." He spat the name out, like it tasted bad or something.

Alfred? The name triggered something, but I'm not really known for my good memory. I stared at Ivan blankly.

"That annoying American airhead who brought you out of the woods?" Ivan eludicated, and someone turned the lights on in my brain.

Oh, yeah, him. The one with the extremely obnoxious voice and the extremely bright blue eyes. Not to mention that hero complex.

"Cool. So, uh, why is he jumping from so high again?"

Ivan shrugged. "They're showoffs and probably adrenaline junkies."

"You sound like you got some sort of beef with him."

"...well, one could say that. Other than the fact that he's an idiot and a Capitalist pig, he keeps stealing my friends. See, look over there - the one with brown hair is Toris."

I squinted harder. "Well, would you look at that. Why's Toris hanging out with him?"

"I don't know," sighed Ivan, shaking his head. "But Alfred's being more irritating than usual - for some reason, he keeps following me around, and stares at me like he's expecting me to get up and sit with him during tribe meetings."

"There_ is _that whole 'don't judge a book by its cover' thing," I commented. "Why don't you give him a chance?"

Ivan sniffed disdainfully. "And risk his capitalism rubbing off on me? No, thank you."

Well, once a Commie, forever a Commie, I suppose.

The back path we planned to go to was long, muddy, and marshy. It didn't look much like a good place to practice riding a motorcycle, but I wasn't going to complain - hell, I hadn't even thought that Ivan knew how to use a motorbike himself. It was either him or lessons, and getting lessons ran the risk of Ludwig finding out. Still, when I saw just how wet the terrain was, I opened my mouth to request a slightly drier area; Ivan grinned at me. "You're not scared, are you?" he taunted.

Bastard. Frowning, I waited in the warm truck cab until he had hefted the bikes out of the bed and set them down, calling for me to get out when he was done. I nearly tripped in the mud and he snickered.

"Shut up. Now what?" I grumbled.

"Well, there are lots of differences between riding a motorcycle and driving a regular car," he started before launching into a rather long explanation of the differences between the two vehicles. "The most apparent of these differences are in body control and environment. A motorcycle requires both hands and both feet used independently, to mind the brakes, clutch, and transmission. You also need to balance your steering so you don't fall over. It's rather like riding a normal bicycle, except that you're going at least fifty or sixty miles faster."

I gulped. I'd never learned to ride a bike.

"Second, the environment. In a normal car, rain or wind won't really affect you, provided you've got good windshield wipers and good brakes. On a bike, however, wind can tilt you off balance and make you swerve. It can blow shit into your path. It can blow shit into other people's paths, who will in turn swerve and possibly hit you. If you're hit, you've got no protection on your legs the way you do in a car cage - you've not even got anything to protect your arms or back, and a helmet will only help so much." Ivan frowned, staring up at the sky as if counting off everything in his head. "Other than that, the bikes are easy to use. Clutch makes you go; brake makes you stop. Make sure you pull the clutch in all the way before grabbing the brake. Accel is the pad to your right. And...that's all you really need to know for now, so go give it a try."

Shivering, I stepped over the mud to the bike, hefting my leg over it and gripping the handles experimentally. The bike purred, and I inhaled deeply, grinning slightly at the rush of adrenaline and excitement.

"Off you go, then," he grinned, stepping away so I had space. I grabbed the clutch and was about to hit the accelerator when I heard someone grumbling - someone with a smooth, silky voice that had just a lilt of a Spanish accent.

And then the bike jolted. It so was not me freaking and grabbing the brake, okay? Ivan reached out to steady me. "Uh...?"

"I'm going again," I hissed, glaring slightly when he asked me if I was okay. Ivan shrugged and moved back off to the side.

Antonio's voice started up again in my head - more exasperated groans, more orders that I stop before my clumsiness killed me. I scowled. "Shut the hell up, tomato bastard."

Not till you gain your senses, he replied, and I was about to slap myself for imagining a conversation with someone in my head before I saw a glint of bronze skin and irritated black eyes off to the side. I glanced up, and about the time that I did, I lost control of the bike. As I swerved off to the side, I absently registered Ivan shouting for me to grab the brake, jump off the bike, just don't smash his baby to bits against that tree! Either way, I screamed bloody murder and practically flew off the thing, landing on my shoulder and rolling over a few times before stopping as I bashed my head against a rock.

The revving of Ivan's bike, quite a few meters away, caught my attention; I sat up, completely dazed as I rubbed at my eyes. "See what you did?" I grumbled to the silenced voice in my head as Ivan jumped off his bike and ran over to me.

He frowned. "Wow. You were on that thing for barely twenty seconds and you manage to crash. You're bleeding." Ivan pressed cool, ungloved fingers against my temple, and they came away red. Sighing, he straightened up and reached for his thin t-shirt, grabbing the hem and lifting it over his shoulders, revealing a well-toned torso littered with - scars? Were those scars? I blinked a few times, squinting slightly. Before I could see anything for sure, Ivan brought the cloth close to my head and used it to pat away the blood. It left a dark red stain on his grey v-neck shirt.

But with light hair, light skin, and those unreadable eyes (were they curious or irked?), and the long checked scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, the scars were totally unnoticeable.

"You're kind of beautiful," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He stared at me as if I'd grown four more heads, and I felt my cheeks burn red.

After several moments so awkward that I very nearly awkward-turtle'd with my hands*, the corners of Ivan's thin lips pulled up into a wry smile. "How hard did you hit your head, again?"

I scowled and crossed my arms, letting him clean off the blood.

* * *

**A/N: **Again, so very sorry about the wait and the painfully short chapter orz;;; the next one, I promise, will be longer. Hopefully I'll be able to get it up in a week or two...depends on debate schedule. Cx  
Thanks for reading!

*Awkward turtle = awesome. :D


	6. mono and manperiods

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, Hetalia, Stolichnaya, or Rihanna. **

**A/N:** ...so much for a week or two in between chapters, y/y? Sorry, all, but my muse decided that gaming was more important than you. orz;;; /has been at the mercy of Nazi Zombies and Fallout 3 and Dragon Age 2 (ohmaigod_Fenris_) for the past few months

Hope you don't kill me, and that you enjoy this chapter. It's extra long (obby) because, as an apology, I fused chapters six and seven into one massive chapter that handles...pretty much the rest of the heavy in this fic. I think. I dunno. Also, major apologies for about 400 people - I'm a lazy whore who hasn't been replying to all her reviews lately. So here's a massive thanks to everyone! :)

As always, a massive ty to Lily for betareading. ^^

Oh. And driving with seniors is fun, especially when they race and drive over sidewalks and go 100 on hills. C:

* * *

**Chapter 6 - mono and manperiods**

"We should go for a movie," remarked Ivan randomly a few days after the biking debacle. The two of us sat on one of the large, comfy sofas in the den of my house, the widescreen television on to some crappy SaiFai* film or other. This one was about massive anchovies eating people, and Ivan looked enthralled even though it was such an awfully low-budget movie. "You can buy my ticket because I paid for your hospital visit," he added as he took another long swig from the half-empty bottle of Stolichnaya in his hand. Ludwig was at work; if he'd been at home, it would've taken a couple hundred dollars to make me even consider allowing underage drinking in front of him.

"Dude, my health insurance covered it," I grumbled even as I reached for my uPhone and checked movie times at the Port Angeles theater. "You paid like, five bucks for the gas it took to drive me there. Uh, there's something called _Face Punch_ playing in Port Angeles tonight at 8:40, does that sound okay?"

Ivan looked pensive. "Is that the one that got bad reviews?"

"Yep. You seem to like this movie, so I thought that I might as well cater to your terrible taste."

"Thank you, Lovi!" he beamed, either not noticing or ignoring my blatant trolling.

"It's rated R. Your grandfather won't care, right?"

"Oh, not at all. He's been telling me stories about torturing Nazis in the Second Great War since I was five."

World War II? Wow. Mr. Winter was _old_. And fucking crazy. No wonder Ivan turned out so estranged.

I twitched. "Ooookay. Then we can leave here at, like, 8. Your crazy driving will probably get us there with time to spare."

Ivan left shortly after to go home and shower. He had a habit of popping up at other people's houses at all odd hours; that morning, he'd woken me up at like 9 so he could come inside and get smashed on my sofa, mumbling something about not wanting to stay home. I'd wheedled the truth out of him, though, and as it turned out his sister was visiting. If you remember, Yekaterina Braginskaya had filed a restraining order against Ivan a few years earlier, which kept him from getting within one hundred meters of her. As such, he'd grabbed the vodka and high-tailed it out of La Push as soon as he heard that she was coming to visit. It was likely that Toris and Raivis, as childhood friends of the Braginskis, would drop in, so Ivan decided dropped by my place instead. Yeah, the whole situation was pretty damn funny, but when I laughed, Ivan's face twisted into this expression of pure distress and misery, so I tried to transmutate my laugh into a cough. It...kind of worked...I guess...

Either way, Miss B was only going to be in La Push for a few hours, probably to break the news about being pregnant or some other such thing. By 6, said Ivan, she would be long gone, so he could go home and change before driving back to pick me up at 8.

Thankfully, everything went according to plan: his sister had indeed departed, so Ivan wasn't arrested for violating his restraining order and the twenty-something dollars I spent on our movie tickets didn't go to waste. Though he was pretty sad about not getting to see Toris, who had quite recently stopped hanging out with him.

Ivan was one of those people who, despite being tall and broad and muscular, looked good in slim-cut jeans and sweaters. When he pulled up, I felt a little underdressed; I'd just grabbed my dark blue jeans and yanked them on with a lime green hoodie that brought out the color in my eyes, according to Mom. Either way, I climbed up into the passenger seat of his gas-guzzler and barely had my seatbelt strapped on before he floored it.

The radio was on to some god-awful country music. I poked at the dashboard, trying to find a good channel; the fifth button preset was for, like, R&B, and Rihanna belted out that sticks and stones may break her bones but -

"- chains and whips excite me," grinned Ivan, singing under his breath and nodding his head in tune with the song. "Cuz I may be bad, but I'm perfectly - Lovino? Are you okay? You look like you just had an aneurysm."

Okay, look: it's scary as fuck to see six feet of Russian muscle singing along to Rihanna. Honestly. I mean, his voice wasn't awful, but he was gripping the steering wheel really tightly and he looked homicidal and it just wasn't fun.

"Uh...I'm fine."

The blonde shrugged. "If you're sure. S-S-S-N, M-M-M -"

When we reached the mall ten minutes later, I found myself with a few bruises on my forehead from whamming the windowpane in misery. Despite the dull throbbing, I got out of the car and followed Ivan out of the parking lot; we printed the tickets at one of those spiffy booths by the theater entrance, and strode inside with a few minutes to spare.

It was only when Ivan stopped to buy soda that I realized, fuck, he was tall. What if the theater was full? Common courtesy was that giants didn't sit in the front rows, after all.

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry about blocking some cute girl's view of the screen, because there were two seats in the very top row that (despite being between a rather...vigorous couple and a total blazer) were perfect and smack-dab in the middle.

Oh, god, the movie _sucked._ It was possibly the worst film I'd ever seen, because the plot was underdeveloped and the comic relief got shot ten minutes in and the girl who was _supposed_ to be the hot sex appeal wasn't even that hot. I groaned and leaned back in my seat, prepared to nap, even as Ivan sat on the edge of his seat with his eyes wide and enthralled.

He woke me up when the movie was done, frowning solemnly. "The hot girl got run over by a tank."

I snorted. "Well, I hope you enjoyed the movie anyway?"

"Oh, it was lovely! Brains and entrails spattering everywhere!" He sighed dreamily.

We got up and exited the empty theater. Ivan grunted and rubbed at the back of his head, sniffling slightly. "Hey, you feeling okay?" I asked, peering up at him with an arched eyebrow. Because, you know, it would totally suck if he passed out; I wasn't really confident in my ability to see over the dashboard of his massive car, let alone drive the damn thing, and getting stranded in Port Angeles at night was not very high on my bucket list.

"Yeah. Feeling a little tired...maybe I'm hungover." Shaking his head as if to clear it, Ivan yawned and jammed hs hands into his pockets. "Hmm, I need to use the bathroom." He strode off into the men's room, and I sighed, leaning against the wall and tapping my foot impatiently.

"Hey, don't I recognize you?" asked someone all of a sudden, and I turned to stare at the guy who'd spoken. He was tall, broad, and blonde, face set in a very concentrated frown as if thinking took a great deal of energy. Looking at his buffness and the company he kept (four or five others who all looked like the brawn-over-brain sort of people), thinking probably _did_ take energy.

"Uh. No?" I sure as hell didn't recognize hi -

Ohhh. Fuck. It was one of those guys from way back when, when I'd met Lily in that alley - except he had, like four more people with him. Maybe he'd been watching _Face Punch _with Ivan and me?

I guess he remembered at the same time I did, because a rather nasty grin spread over his face. "I thought I did. Aren't you the scrawny little bastard who stuck your nose into my business a few weeks ago?"

You know, a common thought people get when they see me is that I'm an idiot. Unfortunately, I'm not, which was why I knew immediately that - in the more-or-less abandoned movie theater hallway - if those idiots picked a fight with me, I'd be completely screwed. Why did Ivan take so long to piss?

"Uh. No?" I tried, looking at him as if he were crazy. "Do I look like the sort of -" I stopped with a yelp as he punched the wall next to my face. "Don't hit me, bastard!"

"You," he sneered, hazel eyes livid as he leaned in, "cost me and my friends quite an enjoyable night. How do you suppose you'll pay us back for that inconvenience?"

I swallowed hard and opened my mouth. "I -"

"This looks fun! Perhaps I can join in?" said my newly-favorite Communist coolly, smiling slightly as he ambled out of the bathroom.

"Go the fuck away," hissed one of the other guys, standing menacingly.

"You're very welcoming," Ivan grinned before turning to me. "Shall we go?"

Guy #1 snickered. "Who's this, your boyfriend? Tell him to fuck off, because we're busy."

Ivan laughed once before responding, "I can see that. Either way, we really do need to be leaving." He stepped closer, practically butting heads with Guy #1. "Another time, maybe."

_Why do I always end up friends with the crazy people?_ I groaned slightly as Ivan regarded him coldly and saying something about how he'd beat the rest of them bloody if they didn't leave. I rubbed the bridge of my nose; the resemblence between Ivan and Antonio was uncanny. Then one of the guys said something I didn't catch, and Ivan more or less lost it.

When Ivan punched Guy #1 in the face hard enough to send him careening back, blood streaming from his busted lip and his probably-broken nose, I shouted. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

Ivan whacked another guy twice before the rest of them skidaddled. He turned to me, breathing hard through gritted teeth, and I stepped back when I saw how furious he was. "H-hey, what -"

"I have to go," he said bluntly before turning and practically running out.

"What? I need a ride!"

He still left.

...well, fuck. I glared at his retreating form and called Ludwig to pick me up.

* * *

I called Ivan the next morning - not to see if he was okay, but to ask if he wanted his vodka back. He'd forgotten it the day before, and it was only common courtesy to give it back.

I was not worried, okay? Bastards.

Mr. Winter answered the phone. "_Hello, Lovino,_" he said after I asked to speak to Ivan. "_I'm sorry, but Eevan is very eell. He can't talk to you._"

"Oh, could you tell him I -" The other line clicked, and I scowled. How rude.

"How is he?" asked Ludwig, who sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and a newspaper. "Mr. Winter said he had mono."

"Well, I don't know if he's any better. He's too sick to talk."

"Hmm. You sound suspicious."

"Maybe I am. What's it to you?" I grunted, picking at my toast. "Bah. He looked like shit yesterday, anyway." And he'd left me to figure out a way home. Mr. Winter didn't sound like he was telling the truth, but for all I knew Ivan actually had come down with something.

"You could drop by later, if you really doubt Mr. Winter," suggested Ludwig.

I blanched. "Hell no. He'll gut me and use the remains to - to - to make some crazy Russian food or something. I don't know."

Ludwig stared at me blankly. "Just a suggestion."

Two more days passed with no word from Ivan. I finally decided that something was totally up - I hadn't gone two hours the whole summer without at least a text from the hulking Russian, let alone two days. I drove out to La Push after I got off work.

Mr. Winter wasn't home when I arrived, but Ivan's Hummer sat in the driveway with rain pattering down onto the shiny black surface. I yanked my hood up over my head and ran over to the door, squishing myself under the eaves to shield myself from the rain as I rapped impatiently on the door. "Oi. Oi. Open up!" Nobody answered; I groaned and marched around the house, head bowed, to check if Ivan was in the barn.

I saw him leaving the house in drenched black jeans and a scarf, wet hair slicked back off his face.

"Dude! What the fuck?" I hollered, stomping over to him and shivering at a particularly harsh gust of wind. "I thought you were dead or something!"

He stared at me before sighing and glaring back at the ground, shaking his head and continuing his trek across his muddy backyard.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" I grabbed his arm and recoiled - his skin was almost painfully hot. "Uh...man, you're like, over nine thousand degrees here. Why are you walking around shirtless in the rain?"

"Go away," he muttered, and I gaped.

"What?"

"Go _away_," he repeated, yanking his arm away from me and turning that terrifying glare on me. I paled. "Just go back home."

"No!" I bit out. "You crazy? What the hell's wrong with you?"

"It doesn't even matter anymore." He stepped closer; I moved back.

"The fuck? Of course it does," I insisted. "In case you didn't notice, you're like, my -" I swallowed. "- my best friend. Ugh. Okay, I admitted it."

His eyes turned real sad, and he glanced back at my face for a second. "I'm sorry, Lovino. It's just - I - I tried, I really did, but I can't -"

He stopped and looked off to the side. A few seconds later, I heard someone calling his name, and I turned in the direction I'd heard it. Alfred Jones and a handful of others stood at the edge of the wood behind Ivan's house, also shirtless and wet to the bone; Alfred had his hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted. "Hurry up, broski!"

Ivan sighed again, shoulders slumping. "I have to go."

"Wait!"

"Lovino. I...we can't be friends any more."

I froze. "You're joking.

He shook his head. "I'm not."

Alfred called for him again.

"Oh, oh, I see," I hissed, reaching up and pushing my wet bangs back up off my face. The hood of my dark parka had slid off my head, too weighty with rainwater, and my hair clung to my skin. "You and Alfred, huh? Real buddy-like all of a sudden. What'd he do, say that you had to drop me or something if you wanted to join his club?"

"It's nothing like that!"

"Bullshit! You're always going off about how much you hate him, and all of a sudden you start following him around, and ditching your friends at movie theaters and lying about being sick just so you could chill with him? What the hell happened to all your _oh, he's such a loser! I don't know why anyone likes that bastard!_ banter?"

"Lovino, I'm -" Ivan reached out, completely distraught.

"_Alfred_ got to you, that's what!"

"No!" he more or less roared. I flinched; he looked about to punch me in the nose, before he lowered his arm, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he tried to articulate his thoughts. "He's trying to _help _me!"

"You know what, Ivan?" I ground out. "Fuck you. _Fuck. You._ You're a stupid, selfish brat that I can't believe I wasted my entire summer with. I hope you trip over a rock and break your goddamn nose or something stupid while you prance around after Alfred!" I turned and stormed away, ignoring Ivan's pleads for me to wait.

He didn't chase me as I climbed back into my car and drove off. Alfred watched me go, and when I saw him staring I flipped him off despite the hard look on his face.

After I stopped outside my house in Forks, I decided that there was _way _too much resemblence between Ivan and Antonio. At least this time it hadn't been a messy break with a faggoty sparkly vampire who, like Ivan, had no business becoming so important to me in such a short time.

I cried all the same, and chugged the leftover Stolichnaya in the car so that I could tell myself that my eyes were only red from the alcohol.

* * *

I woke up tired, stiff, and a little hungover. There hadn't been much vodka left, and I only took like two beers from the fridge, but I'm not a very good drinker so what I had proved more than enough to get me drunk. I'd passed out at my desk, where I'd gone and sat after showering. Fuck, my back hurt.

After a nice hot shower, I felt a lot better. My head throbbed a bit, but it wasn't as bad as before. I yanked on a highlighter yellow t-shirt and a pair of boxers before wandering downstairs and raiding the fridge; hungry enough to actually cook something, I grabbed the carton of eggs and a package of spinach from the vegetable drawer and made an omelette. I fried some of the frozen, pre-cut potatoes we'd had in the freezer for a few months, and drowned them in ketchup before scarfing them down with the eggs and a glass of orange juice. Since it was, like, barely 11AM, I flopped on the sofa to see if there was anything worth watching on TV. Some random-ass show about, like, ice cream or summat shit kept me busy for an hour, and at twelve I decided that I should probably do something. A note from Ludwig on the fridge said that he wouldn't be home till, like, five or six, so I had time to spare.

I thought about buying some ice cream and watching something on pay-per-view, but when I opened the garage door to get shoes, I saw my hiking boots thrown haplessly against the wall from where I'd hurled them months before. Staring at them for a few minutes, I decided that - since I had nothing else to do - I could go hiking.

But I went out to go buy a tub of coffee ice cream first. The best thing about Forks was that, since it's always so fucking cold, you didn't have to worry about your frozen foods melting.

When I got back home, I went and grabbed my hiking boots, dislodging a number of spider webs and shaking a few out of each boot in the process. At least I'd grown up killing spiders; Mom couldn't stand the things, so the job of squishing the giant daddy long-legs in the bathroom always fell on my shoulders. When I pulled them on, they felt firm with disuse and the mud caked on from, like, May. Or April. One of those months. And they made funny cracking noises whenever I stepped forward.

Either way, I wasn't gonna go buy new boots, so I tucked my old, grass-stained blue jeans into them and selected a gray sweater from the closet. Tucking a scarf around my throat and hefting my bag over a shoulder, I walked out the back door with my tub of ice cream and a white plastic spoon in hand.

Hmm, how to get there? My sense of direction wasn't that bad, but the scenery had changed so much. I sighed and marched off into the woods, trying to remember which direction we'd gone in all those months ago.

It took me a few hours, and leaves kept falling into my ice cream, but finally I found the clearing Antonio had taken me to. The large trees around it weren't landmarks, but I remembered the pale green vines creeping up around them; if I hadn't, then I would've marched right past the clearing. See, without people to personally care for the flowers, the entire area had been overtaken with weeds and grass. In the middle of summer, everything had turned a hideous shade of grayish-yellow, and the grass snapped underfoot.

Still, it was familiar. I marched into the middle of the clearing and plopped right down onto my ass, intent on finishing my ice cream and maybe setting something on fire while I was here. The only reason that this area was so dry was because Elizaveta and Antonio had, once upon a time, taken the liberty to uproot trees and tear off branches from the surrounding trees to allow a patch of open grass that they made into a garden of sorts; such exposure to the sky practically killed everything. If I set something on fire, the damp surrounding plants and the trees would probably put the fire out...

I was seriously considering it when someone spoke to me. "Lovino?" Sounded familiar, but...no way.

I spun around, stepping back in horror. "Herakles?"

Said vampire smiled slowly. Herakles was one of the vampires who'd caused the general mayhem earlier that year; if it hadn't been for them, my leg wouldn't have gotten broken and bedridden me for a month and postponed my disastrous birthday party. However, while Mask and Pipsqueak, his two companions, were more or less insane (and, in Mask's case, very dead), Herakles hadn't wanted trouble with Antonio and the other Kirkland-Bonnefois vampires, mostly because he was far too lazy to hunt. He'd left shortly after warning us against Mask, and never returned - until today, that is.

I swallowed the last spoonful of my ice cream and dropped the empty container onto the ground. (Fuck littering, I'd trash the clearing if I wanted to.) "Uh. Nice to see you again?"

"You...too, you too," he nodded. "How have...you been?"

"Good," I answered shortly. "What brings you here?"

He didn't reply for a moment, just smiling serenely and looking around. "Where are your...companions?"

"Around here somewhere." That wasn't a complete lie; sure, they weren't _here_, but they were _somewhere_. That counted, right? "Hunting, I think. Why?"

And no, I don't really know why I knew to lie. Wasn't like I heard some stupid voice in my head telling me to.

"No, they're...not."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know very well what...I mean, Lovino," said Herakles. He moved slowly, practically circling me. "They're long gone...aren't they?"

"Uh, _no_."

"Perhaps I should...rephrase: they've...been gone for...at least four months, yes? Don't lie, I can't...smell them."

Well, fuck. I licked my dry lips and turned to face him. "Okay. So maybe they're not here now. But they're due to return in a few hours."

"Really?" He looked dubious, though it took a few moments for his features to shift into that expression. "So...you're saying that...they left you here. Alone. Unprotected. For...a few months?"

"What do you want?" I burst out. "We never did anything to you!"

"Not...to me," he agreed, "but I am...here for Gupta. He wanted me...to see if you were...still being protected. Which you...are not."

Trembling slightly, I jumped back as he stepped in front of me.

"Gupta...feels that Antonio...has done him a great...injustice. Which...he has, I agree. And Gupta, he wants...to repay it. In kind." Herakles tilted his head slightly, crimson eyes glittering. "An eye...for an eye. A lover...for a lover. That sounds...fair, does it not?"

I sneered. "Lover? That bastard dumped me. He's as much my lover as _you_ are!"

Herakles shook his head. "A great injustice," he repeated. "A sentiment with which...I agree completely."

"What happened to the whole 'an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind' thing?"

"It is...far more cruel to...allow someone to suffer...as much as Gupta has. Perhaps blindness...is preferable in this...situation." He smiled slightly, white teeth glinting.

"Please don't," I breathed, swallowing hard as Herakles reached out and patted my cheek in a manner that was probably meant to be consoling, but really almost sent me into hysterics.

"I'm being...kind," claimed Herakles, "and saving you...from the pain Gupta would inflict...if he got his hands...on you. He asked me only...to check on you...and on the status of...your vampire protectors, but...your blood smells good."

Fuuuuuck. I whimpered slightly as he gripped my chin and forced my head back, pulling my scarf down with one hand and exposing my throat. I didn't want to die - I couldn't even drink legally yet, for God's sake!

He moved in close, and I bit my lip. How exactly does one go about dying? I probably should've seen my life pass before my eyes, but my mind just jammed up - I saw nothing but Herakles' face, looming in closer like the killer pendulum in that one poem -

- and then he moved back all of a sudden. I blinked and thanked the Lord for not killing me as Herakles stepped away, turning and staring into the woods behind him in surprise.

"It's...not possible," he breathed, backtracking from the edge of the forest. "Wolves?"

He shot a glance at me, eyebrow arched, and promised, "I'll...be back. Or maybe...Gupta will."

I gulped.

Then he spun and ran, vanishing before I could even blink.

Trees at the opposite edge of the clearing rustled, and I swear that my jaw hit the ground as four or five massive wolves bounded out of the forest. I screeched and fled, moving as far out of the way as possible; I tripped and landed on my butt, and kept scrambling back to try and avoid being squashed.

Most of the wolves ran after Herakles, and I screamed bloody murder as one of them stopped in front of me. It had a sleek, pitch black coat, much like the first one that ran by, but clear, startlingly familiar eyes. They were light, like amethysts, and glittered sadly.

Then it turned its massive head and ran off after the others.

Now, in case you don't remember or in case I didn't tell you, there'd been a rumor going around Forks and La Push that massive bears had been killing hikers. Six people had gone missing so far, but whenever hunters or cops went searching, they didn't find anything pertaining to the murders. Actually, nobody knew for sure whether or not bears were behind the disappearances - but in a small town, rumors spread like wildfire.

Either way, I nearly passed out. But then my head landed on the tub of ice cream I'd discarded earlier. The creamy coffee ice cream - or whatever was left of it - stuck to my hair, and I groaned as I sat up.

I needed to tell Ludwig. I raced home - well, raced as fast as my truck could manage - and almost slipped on the rain-soaked pavement as I ran inside. Ludwig sat at the kitchen table with a man I recognized from the police station.

"Wolves. Massive fucking wolves!" I panted, gripping the counter for support.

Ludwig frowned. "What do you mean?"

"In the forest! Those things, they're not bears! They're wolves!"

The other cop glanced at Ludwig. "Wolves."

"I'm not crazy!" I insisted. "I saw them. They're _massive fucking wolves_!"

"Lovino, you're sure?" inquired Ludwig. "Giant wolves?"

"Yes!" I fumed. "Giant wolves!"

Both of them stared at me. Then Ludwig stood and turned to his partner. "Well, if you're in the mood for some hunting...?"

I ushered them out of the house and practically slammed the door in Ludwig's face after he stepped outside. Why? Well, a few minutes after I got home, I realized that there was just no way in hell that the wolves had caught up to Herakles. Despite how shocked (and anxious) he'd seemed before departing, _nothing_ could outrun a vampire. _Nothing_ could overpower a vampire. It wasn't fathomable.

By now, the wolves - if they had even managed to catch up to him - would be dead.

By now, Herakles would have made it back to Pipsqueak and told him that I was unprotected.

By now, said Egyptian douchelord would be planning out my murder.

Well, _fuck_.

I swallowed. My stomach hadn't stopped flipping the whole day: the knowledge of my imminent death was gonna give me an ulcer. Or, really, it would've, if I managed to live long enough. Sinking onto my bed, I prayed that Ludwig wouldn't return until much later and that my mangled body would never be found, because that would be a major bust.

But if I _wasn't _found, Ludwig would tear the country apart looking for me.

But if I _was_ found, he'd see my remains, and that would suck.

But if I _wasn't _found -

I shrieked as something hit the window - faint, but very distinct, like a pebble or something.

Shuddering in trepidation, I crawled over my bed to the window and peered outside, eyes squeezed shut as I mumbled one final prayer.

Nothing happened for a second. I cracked one eye open and managed to choke on my spit in surprise.

Instead of the dark-skinned, dark-haired, red-eyed vampire I was expecting, Ivan sat curled up comfortably in the tree opposite my window, scarf whipping in the wind as he prepared to throw another twig for my attention.

I considered yanking the blinds shut and leaving him there.

* * *

**A/N:** Cliffhangerrrrrr

Argh, I really need to let up on the angst. I hate writing sad shit. Especially so much of it - chapter six was only supposed to have two sections, and end before the clearing. Ah well. Hope you Greece fans enjoyed seeing him? Even though I suck at writing him, bleck.

Uh, so, yeah. I think I shall warn you now that you will not get another update for a while, because of two main things: one, my brother is coming home from college (which means that I get to play Dragon Age II every single day for the next few months _fuck yes I got a gay romance with Hawke and Fenris_) and two, I'm taking physics in summer school (which will keep me painfully busy, seeing that it's a year-long course condensed into six wonderful weeks). I should be able to update sometime next month, unless...well, unless. I dunno _what_ unless, but still.

Hope you enjoyed. ^^


	7. turning tables

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

**A/N: **Okay, well, I dropped physics, so all is well. Here's your long-awaited update. But I've got to say, I was a bit saddened by the lack of reponse to the last chapter - did you guys not like it, or did I really lose so many readers after Tony left?

also, note that I am going to rewrite FL (to check for grammar, continuity, noncanon names, etc etc) after I'm finished with this story.

Ehh. Hope you enjoy...unbeta'd, because we're on summer break and I don't wanna bug Lily.

but edit - I added in some stuff and fixed grammar yee.

and also. introduction of **fem!Canada**, who doesn't look like canon fem!Canada because canon fem!Canada looks stupid. she's more noticeable than male Canada because you simply can't overlook a pretty girl.

* * *

**Chapter 7 - I can't keep up with your turning tables, douche**

The tree didn't look especially cozy, considering that Ivan had on only a pair of dark sweat pants and a long dark scarf wrapped around his throat. His bare torso was covered in scars stretched white with age and growth, and small circular burns in the shape of cigarette butts, but the guy was ripped; I stared unabashedly at his abs as I pondered whether or not to let him in.

It took me a few moments to decide, during which Ivan hurled another twig at the window with enough ferocity to crack it. I grabbed a pair of track pants and a t-shirt off the foot on my bed and yanked them on before I undid the latch and pushed the window open. "You're paying for that, asshat," I grumbled as Ivan crouched and practically pounced through the window, landing on his hands and rolling to his feet. The motion was surprisingly fluid, and I scoffed. "When did you become a fairy princess, again?"

"I look great in tights," he responded.

"I'm sure," I commented dryly, crossing my arms. The window was still open, and the wind outside was cold. "And since you apparently haven't looked at a fucking clock, it's 2:30 in the morning. What the hell do you want?"

"To apologize."

I stared at him. He stared back.

Then I burst into laughter. "Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit."

"I'm not joking. Really."

"Sure you aren't. Just like you weren't joking about me being your best friend, right?" And just like Antonio wasn't joking about loving me. God, why were people so complicated? Actually, no - rephrase. Why was my _life_ so complicated? I mean, I've got a fucking vampire on one hand and a Russian prick on the other, and I let them both in and hated myself for it after both of them drop-kicked me out of their lives.

But Ivan was apologizing. From what I knew of the guy, he never apologized - well, except to his family, but who wouldn't apologize to Mr. Winter? Hell, you'd apologize to Mr. Winter even for something you hadn't done. "Lovi, you've got to understand -"

"Understand? What is there to understand, dickwad?" I paused. "And don't call me that."

"Why did you interrupt me right when I was going to _explain_ what you need to understand?" asked Ivan in a furious half-whisper.

"I have no fucking clue, but it happens all the time on soaps and for maximum dramatic effect I figured I should interrupt you right there too!"

"You are such a -" Ivan stopped, and the tension in his frame bled out like the ink from a Sharpie bleeds onto paper. He sighed and shook his head.

My eyes flashed. "Such a _what_?"

"Nothing. Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for beating up those fuckers at the movie theater, even though they deserved it. I'm sorry for ditching you. I'm sorry for ignoring you and shouting and saying...everything I said to you."

"...I don't want to hear this," I hissed after he was done. "Get out."

"But Lovi -"

"_Don't _call me that! Out!"

"- I really am sorry!"

"I don't fucking care, okay?" I grabbed a binder off my desk and threw it at Ivan's head. He caught it before it hit his face, and set it down on the chest of drawers by the window. "Just get the hell out before I shout for Ludwig, and he shoots you in the fucking face!"

"You won't do that," said Ivan. "You have your own gun here. If you wanted to shoot me you would've when I was throwing sticks at your window!"

"And I regret my failure to act very much. I will honestly scream for Ludwig if -"

Ivan stepped close and pushed the fringe off my forehead with a blazing hand. He kissed my forehead gently, and I batted at his chest to try and push him away. "Leave me alone," I muttered.

His unreadable eyes bored holes into mine. "Lovi. Please, you have to understand that I didn't want to hurt you."

Sneering, I pushed at his chest again. He didn't budge, and I replied, "Go away, you fucking -"

"Do you remember the stories I told you during the drive to the cliff? The stories about -" He stopped and swallowed hard, as if he'd gagged on his words or something. "The stories of Quileute legends?"

I frowned. Of course I remembered them. "The ones about the vampires, right."

Ivan's face twisted, and he let go of me. "Of course."

"Now what?" I groaned.

"You _would _only remember the vampires. I don't know why I thought otherwise." He strode to the window, and looked about to jump back out and run away forever. I lurched and grabbed his forearm; the muscles tensed under my fingers.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid, Lovino. You know exactly what I mean. Don't even pretend that your fucking boyfriend was human!"

I swallowed. "H-how did you -"

"Because he and his fucking _family_ -" He nearly yelled the word, and I wondered how Ludwig was still sleeping. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was standing at the door, preparing to shoot a hole right through it and knock Ivan out of my life permanently, because Ivan and I were making such a racket. "- were the ones who did this to me! Who did this to all of us!"

"All of us?"

But Ivan leered and turned away. "You know what? Sleep on it. See if you can remember what else I told you that day. If you can't, well...it was a good summer."

He wrenched his hand out of my grip and jumped out the window before I could reply. "Ivan!" I shouted as he ran off. "Get back here, you fucker! You can't leave me like this again!"

I threw the empty binder on the chest of drawers after him and slammed the window shut for good measure. But when I crawled into bed, I found that I couldn't get the bastard out of my head: what had he _meant_, that Antonio and the others did something to him? Who were all the others? How had Ivan even known that the Kirkland-Bonnefois brood were vampires?

(I mean, they _sparkled._ Even if he'd seen them in the sun - which was extremely unlikely, considering that the sun hardly ever reared its ugly head in northern Washington - he'd probably just pass it off as a weird Western European practice of bathing in glitter or something. They didn't drink human blood, and from what I knew they were extremely careful when they hunted. Nothing at all in their behavior suggested vampirism. Hell, even Anne Rice's vampires, whom she'd basically handstitched vaginas onto, were manlier than the diamond-skinned ones prowling around the earth.)

Sleep came uneasily, even after I shucked the track pants and shirt. After several hours of tossing and turning and pondering the situation, my eyes finally slid shut and - lucky me! I had a bad dream, the first in what felt like a billion years.

I remembered what was going on this time, and unfortunately it wasn't anything crazy like a zombie apocalypse or a cult-tastic town after my ass. Instead, it was just..._there_. Like, I was in a familiar segment of forest, quite possibly the segment in which I passed out after Antonio ditched me and proved just how much of a douchelord he was, but it didn't look like a normal forest apart from the placement of trees and roots. Colors - dark and earthy, pitch black, terra cotta red, and so on - overlapped, like I was tripping on LSD or some shit, and the moon shone down silver all around me. And everywhere I turned, there was just more forest. If I walked in one direction, I somehow looped and came right back to the giant tree I'd started at; if I shouted, my voice didn't echo.

The pure lack of anything terrified me, and the knowledge that this was just a dream really didn't provide any comfort. Just as I contemplated how painful smashing my head against a tree trunk would be, and how long it'd take to kill me, I heard something: Ivan's voice.

I don't know what the hell he was saying, really, and I woke up still clueless as to what he'd meant.

Sleep on it, my ass. I groaned and rolled over in bed, burying my face in the pillow and throwing my cell onto the ground when it buzzed with a text message from Mom. Then, just when I thought my life couldn't get any worse, I remembered something crucial about the previous days: Herakles.

The fear of losing Ivan forever paled in comparison with the fear of _dying_, because there was no way in hell that those wolves had killed -

Oh. Right. Didn't those Quileute legends say something about the people on the reservation being descended from wolves?

_...aw, shit,_ I thought, closing my eyes in horror. If there were stupid sparkly vampires and humans descended from the unholy union between wolf and man (or wolf and woman? God, ew, bestiality is so not my kink), were there also witches and wizards? Was Hogwarts real? If I went to London, would I see people running through a wall at the train station?

Fucking A, man. I shot up in bed, eyes wide and mouth most likely twisted into a weird grimace, and jerked out of bed as quickly as I could. Of course, I stubbed my toe on the bedside table, but I stumbled around and pulled on boxers, jeans, and a red v-neck that I'd thrown on the floor earlier that week; Ludwig had already left for the police station, and I grabbed my car keys and a jacket from the coat closet before rushing to my car.

* * *

Mr. Winter answered the door when I knocked. Normally, he'd scare me shitless; right now, with him donning a flowery apron and me ready to beat Ivan's face in, his hard glare when I asked for his grandson hardly deterred me.

"I really need to talk to him," I insisted.

"He's not in." Mr. Winter had a sort of raspy thickness to his voice, and it reminded me of snow and ice; maybe his wife had been statuesque and blonde and melodic-sounding and called Miss Summer? Hahah, I'm so funny.

I pushed my way past him, even though he looked about to eviscerate me with the suspiciously bloody knife in his hand, and made my way to Ivan's room. Naturally, Ivan lay sprawled over his too-small bed, feet hanging off one end of the mattress and arms curled under his head.

I hadn't really seen him lately, I realized. When he came into my room the night before, it had been too dark for me to see his features clearly; I'd assumed that nothing had changed. Now, though, he looked - in a word - exhausted, with dark rings under his eyes and worry lines on his forehead even as he slept. His skin stretched taut over his face, as if he'd just recovered from a bad bout of flu, and his forehead felt clammy when I pressed the back of my hand to it. I wondered why he looked so awful.

Then I heard someone shouting for him. "Braginski! Wake up, Commiezombie!"

A glance out the window showed it to be none other than Alfred Jones, along with a few other people I didn't recognize. From what I could see, there was one girl out of the five; her black hair was, like most of the others', short but distinctively more feminine. All of them wore shorts and, in the lone girl's case, tank tops, but no shoes even though they'd clearly just come out of the woods.

What the hell? I hissed, and stalked off through the front door.

Jones blinked in surprise when I neared. "Hey! You're Chief's kid, right?" he asked. "Nice to see you again!"

"What the fuck did you do to Ivan?" I spat, stepping forward and jabbing him in the chest with a finger.

"See, Toris? I _told_ you that they were dating!" grinned the girl. She nudged a tall, slim boy next to her, who had longish brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and he winced and rubbed his arm. Was this the same Toris that Ivan had been friends with? I assumed so; how many Torises did you find in an area as small as the reservation?

I turned on her. "For your information, bitch, we are _not_ dating." Her pretty face twisted into a furious sneer, and she bared her teeth. "He's my friend, and I fucking want to know why he suddenly stopped talking to me at the same time you bastards show up at his house."

"Wow, you really cuss a lot," chirped Jones, but his blue eyes flashed dangerously. "Maybe you should go. Don't want you polluting the young'uns ears!" He laughed, patting an expressionless, light-haired boy on the back. The motion was strained, and his eyes stayed on me.

"Look," I scowled, throwing my hands up into the air, "I already know about your whole fucking wolf thing, so why don't you just -"

"Ivan _told_ you?" shouted the girl, sounding so enraged that I jerked back involuntarily. "How the fuck did he tell you?"

"He told me, like, last year!" I yelled back. "I assumed the rest, and from your reaction, I'm totally right!"

"Last year? What the fuck! Is he crazy?" she fumed, lurching with the obvious intent of stomping to the house and slapping Ivan upside the head. Toris extended an arm and she collided with it, shooting him a furious glare but stopping nonetheless. "Hey, you're thinking the same thing I am!" Her face grew redder with each second, and her bared teeth seemed to be...extending. Sharpening, almost. I frowned, and passed it off as a trick of the morning fog.

"Maria," sighed a brunet who looked remarkably like the crazy chick. Both of them had dark skin, big eyes, and roundish heart-shaped faces framed by black curls, with distinctively Mexican features, but the boy's eyes were a startling green whereas hers were chocolate brown. He rubbed his forehead. "Please stop screaming."

The girl, Maria, bristled. "You've got to be kidding me, Pablo! And Jones!" She spun and faced the blonde; he arched a brow coolly. "Ivan breaks protocol and you don't even - and god, he didn't even have any taste!"

"I don't hit girls often," I threatened, stepping closer. I was an inch or two taller than her, and she glared up at me.

"Try it, I dare you," she replied.

"Jesus Christ, Maria!" barked Jones, Georgian accent emphasized by the volume, as he stepped in between us. "Can you not go a single day without losing it?"

She sputtered. "I -"

"I don't want to hear it," he grumbled. "Stand down, soldier." Maria opened her mouth, ready to protest, and Jones shot her a scathing glare.

Then he turned to me again. "Lovino, look: I don't want any trouble, okay?" he said, much more calmly now that Maria'd quieted. "I don't know what you and Ivan had, and frankly, I don't care. Either way, you want to leave before -"

Jones cut off with a surprised grunt as I roundhouse-kicked him in the stomach and told him to go fuck himself.

All hell broke loose. Despite Pablo and Toris both trying to restrain her, Maria starting twitching and before I knew what was happening, she'd...well, exploded. There was really no other word for it, because scraps of her nondescript purple tank top and white shorts went flying everywhere as dark red _fur_, of all things, sprouted on her body. Her arms extended into paws, and her canines elongated, and her face morphed into that of a giant wolf.

"...fuck," I choked, stumbling backwards as she prepared to pounce. Jones set his jaw in a hard line and stepped toward her, cracking his knuckles, but before he had to do anything I heard Ivan shouting from behind me.

"Lovi? What the _fuck_, Maria!" he hollered, and I spun around to see him swinging over the back porch and sprinting in my direction.

My throat constricted, and I watched in horror as Ivan exploded too. His fur was dark, and it looked...exactly like the wolf that had stopped next to me when a pack of them chased Herakles away.

"Wha - how - that was _you_?" I blurted out, pointing at the Ivan-wolf shakily. He didn't look at me, instead jumping at the Maria-wolf; both of them snarled at each other and started fighting, and rolled off into the forest with a crash of trees.

We stood there in silence for a few moments, before Jones laughed. "Oookay. I am going to go check on them - Pablo, you come with me, because Maria'll flip her shit if I try and get her to calm down. Toris, Andy, take 'Lovi' here to Mickey's," he snickered.

Mickey's? I frowned, but slowly followed Toris and Andy - the expressionless, light-haired boy Jones had called a young'un earlier - back to my car.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Lovino," smiled Toris, and I stared at him in shock as he extended a hand. "Ivan talks about you often. I'm Toris Lorinaitis."

"Are you really being nice, or just acting nice to gain my trust so you can kill me faster?" I asked.

Toris laughed lightly. "No, I'm really being nice. Maria tends to get a bit, ah, overexcited, but she - and Alfred, for that matter - mean well." He extended a hand again, and I shook it.

"Lovino Vargas," I replied. "And, uh, blonde guy? Andy? Who're you?"

"Andrei Sokolov," he grunted. He didn't say anything more, and slid into my truck cab; Toris gestured for me to get in, and I sat by the window as Toris drove us.

We drove in silence, and eventually Toris turned off the main road and into a long, winding driveway that led to a small, cozy-looking house with a flourishing garden and tall trees all around. "Here we are," he announced, and we all got out of the truck.

"By the way," murmured Andy, poking my shoulder, "don't stare at Mickey too much. If Boss finds out, he'll get mad." The blonde jammed his hands into his pockets and strode up the porch steps, pushing open the house's back door and disappearing inside.

"'Boss'?" I glanced at Toris inquisitively.

"Alfred," he elaborated. "For some reason, Andrei, Pablo, and Maria all call him Boss."

"Who's Mickey, by the way?" I asked as we followed Andy in. "Jones' girlfriend, or something?"

"Or something," said Toris with a faint smile. "It's complicated."

The delicious smell of baking assaulted us when we entered the kitchen, and my stomach grumbled. I hadn't eaten all morning. When we saw Mickey, I first thought Jones didn't like people staring at Mickey too much because she was gorgeous: hell, even from the side I could tell that she was almost ridiculously beautiful. Then she turned and faced us completely with a giant bowl of chocolate chip muffins in her arms and a curious smile on her full, glossed lips - well, on the left side of her full, glossed lips, because the entire right side of her face had three dark parallel lines running down it. They dragged the right side of her mouth down into a perpetual frown, and contrasted sharply with her pale skin. The scars started right below her right eye and continued down past the neck of her midsleeved red top; they looked agonizing, despite being at least a year or two old.

I politely turned my eyes to the unmarred side of her face. Despite the scarring, Mickey was really quite pretty: long blond hair cascaded down her back and curled into loose ringlets around her elbows, fringe bobby-pinned off her forehead and the scars on display as if she couldn't care less for them. Her large, slightly slanted eyes were a deep indigo and looked natural in her doll-like face, and she stared at me curiously.

"Hello," she greeted, smiling amiably. Her voice was soft but melodic and powerful as she continued, "I assume you're Lovino? Ivan talks about you often. Have a muffin, I just finished baking them - and Andy, dear, please stop attacking the alcohol. I can totally see you."

Andy reluctantly put back a bottle of beer he'd grabbed from the fridge, grabbing the cranberry juice instead. "Sorry, Mom," he grumbled, opening the bottle and drinking straight from it.

"Get the orange juice while you're there, yeah?" said Mickey with a faint smile before glancing back at me and closing the oven with her sock-clad foot. "Anyway, Lovino. You're the vampire boy, right?"

I shrugged. "You're the wolf girl, then?"

Her smile broadened as she set the bowl of muffins down onto the table. "I guess. I'm engaged to one, anyway. Do take a muffin before they get cold - or, really, before the boys come back and demolish them all."

I took one with a gracious smile. It looked delicious, and I nibbled at it as she spoke again - this time, to the other two boys. "Leave it to Ivan to find a way past Al's gag order," she laughed.

"He didn't really say anything," I defended him, speaking thickly due to the orgasmic taste of those muffins. God, they were good. "He tried to, I think, and kind of choked and said something else."

Already halfway through his massive muffin, Toris nodded. "That's a wolf thing," he explained. "If Alfred gives a direct order, we have to obey it. He's the alpha, after all." Then he laughed, and added, "And guess what? Since we're all part of the same pack, we can hear each others' thoughts. It's how we all know who you are without ever meeting you before."

Andy nearly threw his muffin down, and hissed angrily, "Dammit, Toris! Stop telling him this! These are trade secrets! And this guy runs with vampires!" It was the most emotion I'd seen out from the guy, actually.

"That's kind of impossible," I said with a roll of my eyes. "I hate exercising, and it's not like you can keep up with a vampire anyway."

"Maybe humans can't," replied Mickey with a wicked grin, scraping another dozen or so muffins off a tray and into the bowl as she continued, "but my boys certainly can." She patted both of them on the shoulders.

"Yep." Toris reached for another muffin.

"We're faster than they are," Andy smirked. "It's not a problem with us."

"I'm...kind of not surprised anymore," I sighed, shaking my head. "After learning that vampires sparkle...well, not much comes out of left field once you see that."

Jones stepped inside just then, and I jerked back as he glided into my peripheral vision. I hadn't even heard him approach. "Ivan was right," he said, flashing me a grin as he walked over to Mickey. "You're good with weird. Hey, babe." Kissing her once on the lips, Jones wrapped her slighter frame up in his ridiculously buff arms and pressed his lips to the three scars, radiating adoration and blind, sheer love so strongly that I felt it from where I stood across the room.

_Fucking lovebirds,_ I thought wryly. Mickey grabbed a black Ray Ban eyeglass case off the counter and popped it open, handing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses to Jones; he slid them onto his face and grinned at her.

"Now I can see your beautiful face even clearer!"

"Oh, bleh," called Maria as she and Ivan entered. Maria had on a too-big dark shirt and cargo shorts, and Ivan wore jeans and a gray scarf; both of them shoved each other playfully as they jogged up into the kitchen. Pablo followed, a not-quite-smile on his face as he watched his sister. "Sorry about that," said Maria with an apologetic smile as she sat down next to Toris. She and Pablo both reached for muffins, and Ivan grabbed one before sidling over to me with a grin that practically split his face in two.

"Hell no," I warned him, stepping back and preparing to pich the muffin in my hand at his head.. "Don't think you're getting off that total douchery with a fucking grin."

Everyone else laughed, and I didn't shrug off Ivan's arm when he 'nonchalantly' set it round my shoulders.

* * *

Ivan and I left ten minutes later, and decided to hit the La Push beach. High tide had just waned, and I congratulated myself on wearing boots that day; Ivan just pulled off his shoes and rolled his jeans up, hipster-style, and followed me out onto the wet sand.

"So you're a werewolf," I commented dryly.

He shrugged, grimacing slightly. "Yeah. Last time I checked, anyway."

"And why is that?"

"A few lucky tribe members have the gene," he sighed. "It was...diluted, I suppose, when the European and South American bloodlines mixed into the traditional Native American ones here, but several of us have it either way."

I frowned. "And you said something about my bloodsucking ex-boyfriend and his family doing it to you, right?"

Ivan looked a bit lost for words, and it took him a few seconds to articulate his thoughts well enough to explain. "Think of it this way. Some houses have alarm systems, right, that trigger when people break windows or bust in the door or whatever. Those of us with the gene are kind of like alarm systems. When vampires drop by, the gene reacts, and the fever sets in."

"You said you had mono."

"If only."

We walked silently for a few minutes, and then I thought about Mickey. "Uh...you know, I totally get if this is a really awkward, really private question, but -"

"Mickey?" finished Ivan knowingly.

"Yeah." I kicked at a twig half-buried in the sand; it didn't budge, and I stomped on it. "I mean, like...she's really gorgeous. And Jones looks at her so - well, so lovingly, like he'd destroy the world for her. But the scars look like...they look like claw scars."

Ivan nodded sadly. "They are."

"How'd she get them?"

"On accident. She was standing too close, Jones got a bit too angry at something she said, and - bam! They had to take her to the ER, because she was losing blood so fast." He sighed. "That was a year and a half ago. She said it was a bear mauling, but after we shifted, she told us the truth. Jones still hasn't forgiven himself, even though Mickey really couldn't care less."

I shoved my hands further into my pockets and glanced at him. "So it's dangerous for humans to be around monsters of any kind, huh?"

He nodded again, and replied, "Pretty much. Even when they're in love...well, Mickey's testament to that."

"Can't you stop it?" I blurted out. Ivan furrowed his brow in confusion. "The whole werewolf thing, I mean."

"Oh - no. It's not something we can control. You saw that with Maria."

"But Antonio was here for years. Why did it take so long for your, ah, alarm system to react?"

"They never stepped on our land." Ivan leaned down and rolled the hem of his jeans back up. "The treaty between the tribal ancestors and your vegetarian vampires keeps them from getting too close. Jones only turned as a safeguard, really."

"So they violated the treaty?" I frowned. Even Arthur wasn't that much of a bastard.

"No, unfortunately." He scowled. "Other vampires came. Two of them were here for quite a while, but one's down and the other left."

Down? No way. "What do you mean, _down_?"

"I mean that he's dead."

I gaped. "What? How did you kill - _what?_"

"Come on, Lovi. Six of us? One of them? Even two of us could take down a leech easy enough. Jones keeps us on our toes." He said the blonde's name respectfully, and I wondered when they'd become friends.

"So...Herakles is dead?" A giant weight vanished from my shoulders, and I sat down on a damp log. I gestured to the spot next to me, and Ivan sat as well.

"Yep. And his little boyfriend, the scene kid with enough eyeliner to put a hooker to shame? He's next."

I swallowed hard and gnawed the inside of my cheek. "H-he's here?"

"Not at the moment, I don't think. We chased him all the way to the Canadian border two days ago, but...he keeps coming back. We don't know why." Ivan picked up a seashell, and tried to skip it. It didn't work, and he shrugged. "Damn."

"Uh...about the scene kid with enough eyeliner to put a hooker to shame?" I mumbled, glancing at Ivan out of the corner of my eyes. The Russian arched a brow, waiting for me to continue. "I...know what he's after."

"What's that, then?"

"Me."

Ivan eyed me, and then he shook his head and smiled. "Well, Lovi, you _do_ attract all the freaks around here anyway. What's one more?"

* * *

**A/N:** Soooo extra long, extra important because I made you all wait so long.

and instead of asterisking everything, here're the things you need to know about the wolves: Maria and Pablo are siblings, and represent Mexico (north and south respectively), based off of my favorite Mexico RPer. Andrei's Alaska. Mickey/Michelle is fem!Canada.

and yes. Herakles is dead. sorry.

hope you enjoyedddd


	8. no lead in our zeppelins

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

**A/N:** 7000 WORDS JFC. DON'T GO EXPECTING MONSTROUS CHAPTERS AND FAST UPDATES, YOU HEAR? GOD MY BRAIN JUICES ARE ALL GOOOONE

more f!Canada, because you all seemed to love her last chapter, and _gosh_ I hate Egypt's name (because my subconscious is fobby and automatically pronounces it the brown way, and I'm like _greaaaargh Hima-papa, y u choose this name_). background story, because I have to have a reason for Ivan's fucked-up-ness, yee

hope you enjoyyy. unbeta'd. thanks to anon **Person A** for alerting me to military - I changed Alfred to a Marine. :)

and no, I do not know why I'm choosing song lyrics for chapter titles. gosh

holy shit Boone you are so fucking hot. why can't my Courier have sex with you? why can't you have sex with Vulpes, either? New Vegas is a cockblock in itself dammit

* * *

**Chapter 8: no lead in our zeppelins**

Ivan and I headed back to Mickey's house around four in the afternoon. Maria was nowhere to be seen, but Jones, Toris, and Andy sat in the den, playing Nazi Zombies two at a time. When we entered, Jones glanced up and grinned until he noticed the wry smile on Ivan's face; handing his controller to Andy, he jumped to his feet and strode over to us. He looked more mature with the glasses, even though he probably didn't need them, and he asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's a long story," sighed Ivan. "We should get everyone in here."

Jones stared at me curiously, and realization glimmered in his eyes. "...well, I do declare, that is exactly what Pablo suggested. Lemme go get him and Mickey - Lovi, can you go get Maria? She's upstairs."

"What is with you wolves and calling me Lovi?" I grumbled, shaking my head and stomping upstairs - well, not really stomping, because it would be rude as fuck to stomp in a lady's house. Gripping the banister, I peered over the top steps and saw Maria absently watching something on TV. A telenovela, maybe. "Maria? Jones wants you downstairs," I said.

She grimaced but nonetheless stood, glaring at me haughtily. "What does he need _me_ for?"

"Uh. Tribe meeting."

Maria kicked me in the leg as she passed, and I nearly lost my footing. "Biiiitch," I groaned through gritted teeth as I leaned over to assess the damage. It'd definitely bruise.

Everyone flopped onto the sofas in the den as Jones came back inside, one arm wrapped around Mickey and the other over Pablo's shoulders. The two had obviously been gardening, because Pablo's knees and shirtless chest were smeared with dirt and Mickey's jean shorts had seen better days, and they both had darkened hands; Mickey strode right to the sink and washed her hands off as Pablo and Jones sat with the other guys - wolves? - around the square kitchen table. I walked over to Mickey and asked her if she needed help washing up the dishes (because apparently the...pack had eaten lunch while we were gone, and a veritable tower of plates stood by the sink). She handed me a towel gratefully, and started washing the dishes off while I dried them and set them back into the cabinet.

Over at the table, separated from the actual kitchen by the wheeled isle, Jones cleared his throat. "Okay, soldiers! As we all know, a leech we've chased over the border at least a dozen times keeps returning, and keeps breaching the perimeter."

For some reason, Jones kept inserting a whole bunch of military terms into his speech, and I threw a glance their way. Palms flat on the table and a very serious look on his face, Jones looked for all the world like an army general briefing his team on their recon mission. Surely I wasn't the only one who wondered why the hell he kept speaking with military euphemisms? The concentrated looks on the others' faces told me yes, and I rolled my eyes as I turned back to the sink.

Considering that neither Ivan nor I had told Jones anything, he was remarkably knowledgeable with his speech. "Men - and ladies, jeez, stop kicking me under the table, Corporal de Montoya! Anyway, you all remember how Pablo suggested that maybe this bloodsucking bastard kept coming back for more than good blood?"

Ivan piped up, rubbing the material of his scarf uninterestedly between two fingers as he added, "He made the connection that Lovi here, who's had dealings with vampires before, and our guest had some sort of vendetta, and Lovi just confirmed that theory."

"Shut up, Braginski," said Jones cheerily. "You just don't sound as intense as me when briefing the troops." Jones did speak naturally and charismatically, albeit rather childishly (because the guy was probably in his twenties, and presenting information like an overexcited teenager playing Black Ops online). "And besides, Lovi needs to explain the rest."

Six pairs of eyes turned to me, and I felt them boring into my back as I put away a plate awkwardly.

"Uh. Yeah. That vampire pissing you off? His name's Gupta. My ex killed his boyfriend few months ago, and now Gupta's trying to kill me out of some misplaced sense of Hammurabi's Code."

Jones stared at me for a few seconds before throwing his hands up in the air. "Corporal!" he groaned. "Come on, man! You've gotta _sell_ it! That was the most boring shit I've heard since, like, that History Channel special on Stalin!"

I gaped. "Dude, are you kidding me?"

"Not at all, unfortunately," said Mickey with a shake of her head.

"Jones likes theatricals," spat Maria. "A bit too much, if you ask me."

"It's what you get when your alpha served four years as a Marine," shrugged Jones. "Old habits die hard. Anyway, apart from Lovi's most uninteresting reveal: we now know our objective."

"We do?" asked Andy with a frown.

"Of course. Use Lovi to draw out this -"

Ivan slammed his fist on the table loudly; I flinched and nearly dropped a plate. Mickey glanced over, and I realized that she only turned because I'd moved, not because a Russian three times her body mass had very nearly broken her kitchen table. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," hissed Ivan, probably with a homicidal grin. "You would really sacrifice a human to catch a vampire?"

I watched in the kitchen window, which reflected the fiasco behind me, as Jones and Ivan stared each other down. Then Jones said coolly, "Braginski, how many people have been killed so far?"

"That is -"

"Answer the question."

Scowling, Ivan muttered something. Jones made a show of leaning in, as if he couldn't hear. He probably could. Bastard.

"Don't be so rude! Not all of us have superpowered ears!"

"Eighteen," spat Ivan.

I swallowed - eighteen people had been killed? Only five hikers had been reported missing.

"And we've already concluded that the murderer is after Lovi, right? Why, yes, we have! Therefore, we'll need to act fast if we want to catch the bastard."

Ivan scowled, his fury visible even in the blurry kitchen window, and the dread of being used as bait paled in comparison to the bubbly feeling rising inside me, the knowledge that Ivan had reacted so terribly to the idea of me in harm.

But, uh, no homo.

Eventually, a word which here means "forty minutes of angry squabbling later", the plan was set. Simply put, the next time Gupta wandered into Washington, Mickey (the only human apart from me) and I would go hiking. Toris, who was probably a criminal profiler in a past life, assured us that Gupta was really just trying to kill me because of his heartache, which meant that I would be able to talk to him long enough for Mickey to discreetly alert Jones, and keep him from killing us until the wolves descended and tore him apart.

After that, Mickey pulled out a giant fucking bag of hot dogs, and Jones and Pablo ran to the barbeque outside. Ivan sighed and leaned on the counter next to me, eyes apologetic.

"Come on," I scoffed. "You can't honestly think that after dating a vampire for months, a scuffle with one will kill me." _At the worst, I'll have a few broken limbs - hopefully not my leg again!_ I thought.

Frowning, Ivan said, "It's just...I'm unhappy with it. What if we don't get there on time? What if -"

I punched him on the shoulder and winced. Guy's arm was hard as stone. "Come on. What happened to all that wolf bravado, the 'we can totally run faster than vampire' shit?"

He laughed, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders again. I think he kissed the top of my head, but that may just have been his ridiculously pointy nose.

* * *

It was almost ten before we finished eating and cleaning and watching movies. Itwas the most fun I'd had in ages, sitting there with Mickey and Toris and Ivan, who lay sprawled out over the sofa with his head practically in my lap, giggling like a schoolgirl at the goretastic film Andy'd chosen. Hell, even Maria loosened up.

She and Pablo were interesting, I decided, and not just because of their opposite personalities. Maria flipped out at the smallest things, apparently disliked Jones immensely, and shouted louder than a banshee; Pablo remained calm at all times, sat right next to the boisterous American, and never raised his voice, even when people talked over him. Unbelievably, they were twins, related to the Quileute pack through their mother, and Maria was the older one.

Then there was Andy, the youngest of the pack. He didn't look much like either Ivan or Jones, but apparently he was their shared cousin: his late father was Ivan's mother's brother, whereas his mother was Jones' aunt. Toris, who was pretty chill considering his girly haircut, was the only one with no obvious connections to the pack. Apparently his mother'd had him with one of the married men on the reservation, or something equally scandalous.

All of them left at varying hours. Andy's mother called him home ten minutes from the end of _Grindhouse_, and he left without a word; Maria and Pablo also vanished at some point, and Toris took off with a friendly smile and a hope to see me again. Then Jones and Ivan said they had to go check the perimeter, and with brohugs from both of them, they left.

I hadn't noticed it at first, but Mickey's house really was smack dab in the middle of the goddamn forest. I wouldn't have managed to navigate myself back home even with the American eye in the sky telling me exactly how many paces to go left, then forward, then left again; due to my ineptitude, a generous Mickey grabbed a deep red parka proudly proclaiming STANFORD and drove me home that night. Ivan and the other guys - uh, wolves? - were all out running the perimeter, after all, and while I hated to ask her she laughed and said that everyone needed help getting out the first time.

That sounded vaguely sinister, but who was I to complain? Mickey was pretty nice. I mean, she was gonna be my hiking buddy in - a few weeks, if what Jones said about Gupta's hunting habits were anything to go by.

"So," she said as she expertly directed us over dirt driveways I wouldn't have noticed. "You and Ivan?"

"What do you mean?" I frowned. "We're not _dating_."

Nodding serenely, Mickey indicated for a second before turning onto the main road. How the hell had she managed to find it?

"Well, if you are, or if you do," she said, "you should know a few things - well, really, just one thing."

"What's that?"

"If you break his heart, his brothers will probably tear you limb from limb," smiled Mickey. "And I may be a girl, and I may be small and weak compared to them, but I'll help."

Why were all of my friends fucking insane? I grinned shakily. "Uh. Well. That's...great to know. But you won't have to worry about that."

She hummed and turned on the radio to some alternative rock channel, the music staticky because of the mountains and trees all around us. We drove in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, as though Mickey didn't usually talk as much as she did around the wolves. Around Jones, really.

Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear: as we pulled up outside my house, I saw Jones stepping out of the forest, hastily tugging on a pair of gray basketball shorts.

Mickey turned off the car and handed me the key. I smiled at her and thanked for for driving me home, and she nodded. When I moved to get out, she tugged my sleeve with manicured blue nails and said quietly, "He wouldn't stand up for just anyone, you know."

I paused for a second, and said, "Yeah. I know. Thanks again."

Jones opened the car door for Mickey as soon as she'd unbuckled her belt. "Hey, Lovi - no hard feelings, okay?" he grinned sheepishly over the roof of the car. Bastard was really, really tall.

"Of course," I replied as I climbed the steps to the door. "I'll see you guys later."

"Bye, Lovino," called Mickey. Jones entwined their fingers and they strolled off in the direction of the forest. Maybe he was gonna fursplode and carry her home? That must be pretty cool, having a wolf for a boyfriend.

Then I remembered what Mickey'd said, and I banged my head against the wall as I changed.

* * *

Ludwig sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper and a mug of coffee in front of him, and he glanced up when I strode into the kitchen the next morning. It was pouring outside, and I wondered if the wolves still ran patrol in the rain. Probably.

"I didn't get to see you yesterday," he said. "How's Ivan? And before you jump to conclusions and think that I'm tracking your cell phone, Mr. Winter called me yesterday afternoon."

I frowned and took the milk carton out of the fridge. For some reason, Ludwig liked 2% milk - the kind with the blue cap - even though it was totally disgusting. "What did he say? Mr. Winter, I mean."

"Something about how kind you are for coming to visit his sick grandson. How was he? He had mono, right?"

"Yeah, and he's much better now." It wasn't really a lie... I mean, Ivan had been sick, just not with mono. But I couldn't exactly say that he'd been sick because turning into a werewolf strained his body... "He was really sick, but recovered pretty damn fast," I said as I grabbed a glass.

"It was good of you to go see him." Ludwig nodded and flipped a page in his newspaper.

Sitting down across from him, I swallowed as I filled a glass halfway with milk. "Yeah. By the way, how did that hunt go?"

Ludwig shot me an amused stare over the top of the papers, and said, "No wolves, thankfully. But, well...we found a bare human footprint."

"A - a _human_ footprint?"

"Yes. Male, size eight." He sighed. "Mr. Winter joined us yesterday, and we're all going again today. There are signs of scuffs and struggling, and it just doesn't sit right with me."

"Oh, okay. When are you going?"

"Ten minutes or so. I need to leave for the station."

"Yeah."

"You be good, okay?" Standing, he patted my shoulder gruffly and took my empty glass over to the sink. Then he grabbed his keys and coat and walked down the hall, calling over his shoulder, "By the way, see if you can hang out with Ivan or a friend of yours today. I won't be back until late tonight."

"Sure thing. Happy hunting."

After he left, I plopped down on the sofa. My phone lay on my bed upstairs, but there was probably something worth watching on TV, so I reached for the remote. I got up occasionally, to grab something to eat or use the bathroom, but I spent the rest of the morning sprawled on the sofa clutching a pillow absently. With fifteen or twenty minutes left of _Hostel_, the doorbell rang, and I ignored it. Or, at least, I tried to, because the faggot started whammying the damn doorbell at the rate of like, thirty presses a second, and I swore as I got up.

Naturally, it was Ivan, who kept pushing the button even after I opened the door. He grinned at me, perfectly happy despite my death glare and the rain blowing into the house and his shirtlessness, and asked, "Can I come in?" as he pushed inside. "Nice pajamas, by the way."

"Thanks," I grumbled. My pajama pants were Deadpool-themed, though Ivan apparently didn't know his superheroes. "It's too early. What's up?"

"Katya's visiting again," replied Ivan from the kitchen. I entered just as he shook the plastic jug of orange juice and chugged directly from it.

"Ludwig drinks that, you know," I remarked.

Ivan looked at the juice and put it back. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Especially since I didn't really have mono."

I rolled my eyes. "Tch. So, what brings you here at such an ungodly hour?" The clock on the microwave read 2:24. Damn, I'd spent like six hours watching crappy horror flicks.

Shrugging, Ivan sat at the table and drummed his fingers along it. "Like I said, Katya's back home. I was thinking we could go to the mall or the beach or something - cliff diving, maybe."

"Are you kidding? You wanna go cliff diving in this weather?" Just in time to accentuate my rejection, lightning and thunder crackled outside.

"Of course. If you're careful, cliff diving's safe even during a hurricane."

Uh, _no_, I could imagine a number of things that would make cliff diving during a hurricane anything but safe. I frowned and replied, "Hell no, man. Can't we go to the mall? One of Ludwig's shirts should fit you."

"Well, if you'd prefer the mall..." Ivan trailed off sadly.

"Come on, man," I deadpanned. "I'm not made of steel. I'll probably hit the surface and make a nice Lovino-pancake."

"I'd catch you," he grinned cheekily, and I rolled my eyes.

I showered as Ivan raided the fridge, and we drove to the Seattle mall in my truck a half hour later, Ivan wearing one of Ludwig's muscle shirts. The thing barely fit, because Ludwig was two inches shorter than Ivan. We had the whole day, and there wasn't much point in hitting the outdoor mall in Port Angeles in this shitty weather; besides, I needed to do some shopping, and what better time to do so than with a superman who could probably carry a few tons without breaking a sweat?

The drive from Forks to Seattle is around three hours - if you're going at sixty, anyway. Ivan whined for me to drive faster, muttering something about how he ran faster when Mr. Winter threatened to cane him as a boy. I arched an eyebrow.

"Mr. Winter threatened to cane you as a boy?"

"Yes, and most of the time he caned me even after I apologized. He still canes me now." Ivan rubbed his palms against his jeaned thighs unhappily.

"..." I, for one, could not imagine Ivan ever suffering from child abuse. "Uh. Why?"

"Oh. Various things," he replied. "Forgetting the milk. Getting a bad grade. Losing Nata - uh. Losing things."

I glanced at him. "Natasha? Your sister?"

Ivan frowned, and didn't reply.

"Come on, man," I grumbled. He merely shrugged, and we sat in awkward silence for like thirty minutes.

Eventually, Ivan started whining again, and I pulled off at some random town because I didn't feel like driving all the way to Seattle either. Lo and behold, there was a strip mall with a bunch of restaurants and a number of brand stores! I drove up and parked in the half-empty lot.

The rain had let up, and Ivan slid out of the car smoothly. "Let's walk around," he suggested, and I shrugged.

"You're gonna be carrying the bags if I start shopping," I warned him.

As it turned out, I didn't buy much. The place got real boring real fast, and not worth the hour we'd spent driving there. We got hungry after like an hour of aimless wandering and small talk and more discussion about our respectively outrageous lives, and chose to eat at a Corner Bakery.

"So," I said by way of conversation starter. "Wolves."

"So," replied Ivan with a grin. "Vampires."

"You know, if Ludwig was, like, a wendigo or something, would you be able to tell?"

"Probably. I don't know. He does give off some very wendigo-like vibes sometmes."

"Really."

"Really." Ivan practically inhaled his blueberry muffin, and got up to buy another one at the counter.

"Was the shifting thing, like, painful?" I asked him, still chewing my bagel.

He frowned. "Which shifting? The gene modification or the actual transformation?"

"Well, both, I guess. Cuz Antonio told me about his changing, and said that it was the most excruciating thing in the history of excruciating things." Not exactly in those words, but whatever.

"The gene modification was...not an overnight thing, as is the case with leeches," said Ivan slowly. "My growth spurts, the exhaustion, all that was all a part of the shifting. It's why I shot up from 5'10 to 6'2 so quickly. In that sense, yes, it was painful, but not unbearable. The transformation bit is much worse."

"Hah," I laughed. "I knew Hollywood was lying to us. No way in hell could a dude turn into a giant wolf painlessly."

Ivan snickered into his cappuccino. "Of course not. Your clothes stretch and tear, but they constrict first. Your skin rips around you, and your bones grow and crack and mend dozens of times in the space of a second. The pain wracks your body for a few seconds afterward, but with so many more nerves to focus on, the brain doesn't register human pain very well."

I winced. "That was...graphic. Ow. And you guys go wolf-mode when, again?"

"Rage, or especially strong fear and worry," he replied, staring at me with that stupidly unreadable look in his eyes.

We exited the bakery, and would've left the mall if I hadn't seen the white glimmer of a 70% off sign in the corner of my eye. I got just a few v-neck shirts and a checked black-and-white scarf for Ivan, who traded out his beige one for the warm wool in the second I took to pay. "Oh, wonderful! Thanks," he said with a grin, ignoring the horrified stares from the sales clerk and a few people around us. Surely the scarf wasn't so horrible that people would stare like that? Nonetheless, Ivan balled up the beige one and shoving it into my shopping bag, which he promptly collected from the counter as I put my wallet back.

I didn't think much on it once we got into the truck. Ivan drove back, with the radio blaring hip hop and the both of us singing along in a manner that probably could've been categorized as "drunkenly", had there been any alcohol in sight. It really wasn't until we got back to Forks at 8:30 that I realized something extremely odd.

"You know," I said as Ivan swerved off the freeway without indicating, "Even when we went cliff diving, you kept your scarf on. I've never seen you without one."

Ivan deliberated, stepping directly into a small puddle before he replied, "No, no, you haven't."

"But you let about eight people in that store see."

"Your point?" He looked at me grimly, very narrowly avoiding hitting a random guy on a bike.

"I've known you for like, months," I scowled. "They'd known you for all of two minutes."

"I'm never gonna see them again," he sighed, "which is why it doesn't matter too much to me."

"So you'd be fine telling a few complete strangers about your whole wolf-thing, but not your best friend?" I felt kind of bad for pulling the best-friend card, but fuck if Ivan didn't deserve it.

"Lovi, it's not - it's not something I'm comfortable sharing."

"You'll have to tell me at some point. Why not now? And I'm sure that all your wolf-buddies have seen them, too."

"Dammit, Lovino!" He swerved again and skid to a halt, probably raping my brakes but not caring very much as he spun round to face me. For a second, I thought he was gonna wham my head against the window, and I shrank back accordingly. My house was literally eight feet away - could I make it if I sprinted?

Then he set his jaw, and, with the scariest grin I had ever seen in my fucking life - including that relatively fuzzy memory of Antonio saving me in Port Angeles, way back when - he reached up and tugged at the scarf.

I was going to tell him that if he was so angry about it, he didn't have to show me, but then he practically tore the thing off and tilted his head back so I could see, and if I hadn't also seen the scars and burns on his torso I would've screamed in horror. As it was, I just flinched, because all around his throat were more scars than I had fingers. They ranged from long and precise marks to white gashes that looked like glass to horrible, dark discolorations. Some of the longer ones trailed from under his jaw to his collarbone, whereas the burn scars focused on the side of his throat. Altogether, it was grotesque, and when I met his scathing glare, I wondered how old he'd been when he got them all.

"My father was not a kind man," he remarked, still with that bright grin splitting his face in two. "Come to think of it, my mother wasn't a kind woman either. They drank too much, and their violence escalated when Natasha disappeared."

"How...how did Natasha disappear?"

"We used to go train-hopping. Like in _Slumdog Millionaire_, you know? But in Russia, the trains were slicked over with ice and they were harder to grab onto. I took Natasha with me one day, even though Katya told me not to...and at some point, she lost her grip. Well, I think she did, because I turned to see her and she was gone."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. I didn't even hear her shouting for me - she just vanished. She was five." Ivan sighed with a wistful smile. It was like the only facial expressions he really knew how to use were grins, or something. He trailed a finger over the biggest of the purple-red burn and continued, "My mother hit me with a frying pan for it. After that, well. These marks would have been much worse had it not been for Katya. Are you satisfied?"

I swallowed, throat constricted and tongue suddenly too big for my mouth. Forget Mr. Winter's canings - Ivan's own parents had subjected him to some of the most extreme child abuse I'd ever seen. And he spoke with a constant smile, even with something as horrible as this.

His grin tightened as he replaced the scarf. "Good night, Lovino," he said, reaching for the car door.

"Hey, wait - Ivan!" I practically screeched at him, lunging for his hands. "You seriously need to stop running away when shit goes down. Especially considering that I'm the dumbass of the sort who forgives you for everything and feels like I just kicked a puppy or something every time I do something that makes you sad." I frowned. "Which is actually pretty often, now that I think about it."

Ivan stared at me bemusedly for a second, before furrowing his brow and straightening up. "...so you're not going to freak out and chug brain bleach or anything?"

"I'd have already run away screaming if I was."

Lips pressed into thin lines, Ivan reached out and cupped my cheek, running his thumb over my skin as he gently tugged me forward. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he smiled softly and pressed his forehead to mine and muttered something in Russian, and_ then_ he kissed me.

Usually, the people I kissed all knew what they were doing; in Ivan's case, he wasn't all that good at kissing, and I had to guide him through it. He grinned against my lips and I laughed, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he pushed me against the car door. Was it locked? Few things killed boners faster than falling out of cars, after all.

And yes, the door was unlocked. It gave way under the combined weight of me and Ivan, and I would've hit the pavement without Ivan's beastlike arms.

"Uh. Can we go inside?" I snorted. "I don't really want a concussion..." How would you explain that to a doctor, anyway? _Uh, I was making out with my best friend, who is apparently now my boyfriend, in my car, and the door wasn't locked, so -_

"It depends. Will Ludwig get mad at us for making out on the sofa?"

"...no...yeah, probably, but he likes you, so he'll forgive you."

He laughed and I squirmed out of his arms, landing on my hands and clambering to my feet. I reached for his hand and yanked him out of the car, and he kissed the side of my throat as we walked up to the door, but as I pulled out my keys he stopped and jerked ramrod straight, twisting his head and glancing around warily.

"Fucking - vampire. Lovi, it's not safe here. We have to go." But peering down the street, I saw absolutely nothing: just lamplights, houses, and cars.

Actually, parked halfway up the street was one very familiar car - a bright red Mercedes Benz, spectacularly out of place on the otherwise-quiet street.

"That's Liz's car!" I twisted and unlocked the house door, pushing it open and stepping inside.

Ivan reached for my hand. "Lovi, if one of them's back," he pleaded, "I can't protect you here. This is their land!"

"Ivan, it's Liz! She's not gonna hurt me!"

I vaguely registered Ivan slamming his fist against my car and probably leaving a massive dent, but getting inside was more important.

* * *

As soon as I stepped into the house, a cold, hard, well-endowed figure slammed into me, knocking the breath out of my lungs as she squeezed me in a hug that could kill Chuck Norris. But first and foremost, _it was Liz_.

"Lovi!" she almost wailed, and I hugged her impulsively before remembering, _right_, I'm supposed to be fucking pissed.

"Liz! How - what - why're you here?" I shrieked, pushing her off me. She looked as gorgeous as ever, brown hair twisted up into a ponytail and her customary flower hairpin holding her fringe off her face. Her eyes glimmered a deep topaz.

"Why do _you_ stink like a dog?" she retorted, scrunching her delicate nose and looking over my head and through the still-open front door. Liz sneered. "...oh, that's why. Oh, great, Lovi! Making out with mutts? Good choice, my man, good fucking choice!"

"Hey, you don't get to say anything!" I spat. "Considering you all fucking bailed -"

"We didn't have much of a choice, okay?"

"Sure you did! You could've knocked some sense into my fucking ex!"

"I didn't, and unless you _listen_ to me, you won't get the chance to either!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means - ugh, gross! What are you playing at, Braginski?"

I blinked and turned my head to look over my shoulder. True to Liz's word, Ivan had entered the house and stood a few feet behind me with a horrible, twisted grimace on his face.

"Ivan - I thought - the treaty?"

"Looks like I don't care about it." He glared at Liz and stepped closer, clenching his fists so hard that the muscles on his biceps popped and stretched out the shirt.

Liz ignored him. "Lovi, werewolves are _not_ good company to keep!"

"Neither are vampires," retorted Ivan. "At least _we_ don't kill people."

"No, you just shift at the worst of times and hurt the people around you."

"That was - "

"Okay, okay, shut up! Do you guys have to fight? Jesus!" I yelled, stepping between them and extending an arm in both directions. "Just - Liz, what did you mean about Antonio?"

Sighing, Liz sat down on the sofa and said, "He's gone mad. Totally, completely insane. It's not even funny any more."

"Do you have to speak so cryptically?" hissed Ivan.

Glaring at him, Liz elaborated, "Lovi, you remember what he told you about the Volturi, way back when?"

"Yeah, of course I do."

"Well...okay, look, man, you have to promise not to get mad at me!" In retrospect, I don't know why she was nervous. Considering that she was strong enough to dig to China with a plastic spoon, what could I do to her even if I did get mad? Well, more mad, anyway.

"Liz, I'm already fucking pissed because one, you guys _bailed_, and two, you won't _tell me what the fuck's wrong_."

"So, uh, I never really explained how my visions worked. You'd think that being psychic meant that you saw only the definite future - like getting alerts from things you've subscribed to online, right? Really, though, I see all possible paths. Gilbert reacts badly to human blood, so every time he smells it I get a bunch of visions that each present possible futures: he could kill the human, he could kill every human in the vicinity, he could run away, he could stay with us... Therefore, I have to act accordingly."

"This is very confusing, Liz," I groaned, rubbing my forehead. "How does this have to do with anything?"

"Hey, I'm padding the story so you don't freak too much. Finally, I don't see anything if the people involved are in a state of being I've never been in, meaning that I get a clear view of humans and vampires only. You've been fading in and out of my view ever since you started hanging out with wolves," she said accusingly, throwing a scowl in Ivan's direction. "So earlier today, when you and the mutt were planning what to do, one of those options involved jumping off a cliff, yes?"

"Yep."

"Which you've done before, I assume?"

"Yep."

She groaned and threw her hands up in the air. The ceiling light glinted off her gold watch. "How stupid can you get, Lovi?"

"It's recreational," I defended myself. Ivan snickered dryly.

Liz rolled her eyes and said, "Well, to me, your recreational activities looked like _suicide_. But you do all sorts of stupid things - like _building two-wheeled death machines_ with this idiot here - so I didn't think much on it." She paused. "But Arthur did."

Arthur? What did he do? I frowned. "So...?"

"You know how Arthur and Antonio aren't very fond of each other, right? Well, Arthur - whom I visit a lot, considering that he and Francis do literally nothing but fuck and watch the occasional cult horror - has this very interesting skill which allows him to, ah, see...things. In the air around you."

See things? Like..._dead people_, maybe? "Oh, god, he really is a nutcase," I muttered.

"Most leeches are," interjected Ivan with a pleased smirk as he sat on the sofa.

"Shut up," warned Liz. "Arthur sees these things, and he knows what's going on inside people's heads because they tell him. Long story short? He wheedled the whole 'Lovi jumped off a cliff and promptly vanished' story out of me. And you'd only vanish if you were _dead_, or if you were around wolves, but neither of us knew you were around wolves and so we jumped to the obvious conclusion."

"You guys thought I'd died? Come on, you've got to be shitting me." I groaned and rolled my eyes. Ivan looked scandalized, as if me dying whilst in his presence was impossible (it probably was, actually. It'd be like dying in front of Superman or something).

"Not at all, unfortunately. Arthur took a rather gleeful delight in calling Antonio and telling him. And guess what I'm seeing now?"

"Antonio killing himself," answered Ivan with a wry grin.

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner." She turned to me and said, "Look, Lovi, I know I should have spoken on your behalf and kept us all from going, but I didn't. I know you're furious and you'd probably prefer to stay with the mutt here, and I have no right to ask you to help, but...Antonio will kill himself unless you come with me to get him."

"Get him from...?"

"Italy."

I gaped at her. "Wha - now?"

"Yes."

"So I just get up and leave my shit and come with you?"

"Please, Lovi. It's literally a life-or-death situation. If Antonio thinks you're dead, he's not got a reason to stay alive."

And you know, I was probably supposed to be all bitchy and refuse. Part of me screamed for my dignity, and said that I should ignore her and be happy with Ivan - because god, I could be happy with him. I knew that and so did my conscience. Hell, even Liz knew that, from the neutral expression on her face as I glanced between her and Ivan.

But the idea of Antonio - _my_ Antonio, killing himself out of a misplaced sense of love...

Amethyst eyes anxious, Ivan set a hand on my shoulder. Another thing all of us knew was that, if I went with Liz and we got Antonio back, I'd fall in love with him all over again. It'd be as if nothing bad had happened, and it'd be as if I'd never felt anything for Ivan.

What the _fuck_, man. I must have missed the memo alerting me that my life was now a prime-time soap.

"Lovi..." said Ivan softly, forehead creasing as he silently begged me not to go. He ran his thumb over my throat, and I swallowed hard.

"I...Ivan, I'm sorry."

Liz watched grimly as I stood and turned to her. "I took the honor of booking a ticket for you, just in case you agreed to come. It leaves in six hours from Seattle International, so we need to run."

"Okay." I followed her to the front door, but Ivan caught my wrist loosely and kept me from leaving.

"Lovino, please. Don't - don't do this to me."

Wordlessly, I pulled my hand away from his, and slipped into the front seat of Liz's red Benz. "Bye, Ivan," I muttered as she reversed.

I don't know if he heard me, but he stood and watched the car go with an unfathomable expression on his face.

* * *

**A/N:** DRAMALLAMA OH SHIT.

thanks :)


	9. so kiss me and say you understand

**Disclaimer: NOPE. AND DOES COLD STONE EXIST OUTSIDE OF CALIFORNIA? DOES AMERICAN EAGLE EXIST IN VENICE INTERNATIONAL? I HAVE NO IDEA. THEY DO NOW.**

**A/N:** STORY CLIMAX OH MAI GAWD.

AND _AHHHHH _TRANSFORMERS PRIME! WHY ARE THE DECEPTICONS SO FABULOUS? I WANT STARSCREAM BACK LIKE LAST MONTH. AND BREAKDOWN/KO MAKES ME SO HAPPY, JUST LIKE RATCHET IN EP22.

I made a Tumblr (meggaaaaay. tumblr. com, w/o spaces) so go follow me bros and hos

Hope you enjoy and sorry for the fabulously late and unbeta'd update. Lolol.

**Note:** I'm currently editing this and Flashlight, but I haven't finished rewriting the chapters yet. Sorry for any inconsistency between that and this, or this and previous chapters.

* * *

**chapter 9: so kiss me and say you understand**

We reached Seattle International and got through customs within four or five hours, and I guess I looked so uncharacteristically pathetic that Liz bought me one of those single-serve ice creams after selecting an outfit that would best hide her skin in Italy. I sat sprawled over two of the hard airport seats with my arms dangling over onto the floor, and when Liz returned from the one open airport store, she donned a striped black and white cardigan over black skinny jeans, dark boots, and dark gloves.

"I know you like coffee, but they only had butter pecan," she said, handing me the cup. "Sorry about that."

I snorted, but opened the thing and stabbed at it with the flimsy attached spoon. "Thanks anyway, I guess. Though you should've worked harder, considering that I'll need the caffeine to stay awake."

"I'll get you Starbucks when we land."

Speaking of. The plane was meant to depart at four thirty in the morning; the terminal was mostly full, considering that it was already three AM, and apart from a few kids bouncing out of their skins and the occasional intercom broadcast, all was quiet. This was probably the last - or first - flight of the day.

"Why are we going to Italy, again?" I asked, crossing my legs and prodding at my ice cream. "Does it have something to do with those Asian people?"

"It has everything to do with them," she groaned. "None of us agreed to off Antonio - not even Arthur, interestingly - so he's seeking out Yong-Soo. They're in Volterra, and Antonio is currently traveling from Madrid. But anyway, I've been dying to ask - how've you been lately? We haven't talked much yet," announced Liz, breaking the awkward silence with a gentle smile.

"Five months," I sighed. "I haven't spoken to you in five months. But it wasn't too bad, because I only had classes with Antonio, and the rest of the year blurred right by." I wasn't going to tell her about how depressing Lit was after Antonio left; something told me she already knew. I continued hastily. "And Ivan was really a godsend, he kept me from really acting pathetic."

Liz smiled. "Tell me about him?"

"What do you want to hear?"

"Well, when he was human, I sometimes saw you two...except then he'd randomly blur right out, and I guess that's because another wolf was in the vicinity?"

Shrugging, I counted off the wolves on my fingers. "There's...Alfred, Toris, Maria, Pablo, Andy, and Ivan, now."

"Only six?"

"Yeah. That a bad thing?"

"When we signed the treaty, there were twenty. Maybe the immigration diluted the gene."

"Maybe..."

"Anyway, you two looked..." She paused to phrase her statement. "..._comfortable_ with each other when I saw you at first. Then it got a little closer and more intimate, and he disappeared the morning you two went for that movie. So fill me in. What kind of person was he?"

I pursed my lips. Liz's insatiable curiosity, paired with her handy skill of seeing the future and practically stalking everyone around her, did usually suck dick, and she stared at me with a bright grin splitting her lips. "Violent. Drunk half the time. Crazy, and saddled with more family problems than that kid in _The Godfather_. But...I guess that after we started building the bikes, he brightened up. And whenever we went out, he smiled - not a crazy kind of smile, like it was when I met him last year, but a sweet one. Like he was really happy to have someone to talk to."

"And yesterday?"

"You saw what happened yesterday," I replied bluntly, crossing my arms and sliding down in the seat moodily.

"Not all of it. The smell made me dizzy, and I just waited inside for you to cross the border so we could speak."

"We made out."

She stared.

"...really?"

"Yep. A lot."

"Why?"

"It was one of those magnetic things, like -"

Liz interrupted, unhappiness in her voice. "Like you couldn't stop it."

We sat in silence for a few moments as I drank my half-melted ice cream, and then she gnawed at her lip and asked, "Lovino? You know that, if you really were happy with Ivan, I'd never force you to do anything, right?"

I chewed on a pecan. "Yeah." In Antonio's case, she wouldn't have to force me. Trying to change the subject, I examined my ticket - 39B, and Liz's was 39A - and asked her, "What's up Arthur's ass, anyway? Other than Francis."

She giggled, and asked, "Elaborate. Are you asking about his general dickishness, or his surprisingly harsh dickishness in telling Antonio?"

"Both."

"I don't really know, actually," she replied at length.

"Bullshit. There's nothing you don't know."

Flashing me a grin, Liz continued with a somber sigh. "Flatterer. And while that's normally true, Antonio and I can't discern much from Arthur apart from unrelated thoughts and actions. He's a train wreck, just like Gilbert, except that Gilbert's insane because he drinks human blood and is constantly in proximity to it but can't feed, for obvious reasons, and Arthur's insane -"

Here she stopped, and frowned. "He's kind of just...eccentric, you know? Like. Half the time his actions look kind but turn out malicious, and visa versa."

"So...are you telling me that his telling Antonio was actually part of his elaborate hoax to get us back together?"

"It's a possibility. I mean, it's not like Antonio knows what the hell goes on inside Arthur's head, which is weird considering that he can hear his thoughts. I doubt even Francis knows how Arthur runs."

Well, I wasn't going to learn anything other than the obvious there, so I rolled my eyes. "Why do Arthur and Antonio hate each other?"

"Again, I can't really say," sighed Liz, pulling a hairband off her wrist and holding it in her teeth as she twisted her hair up into a long ponytail. She tied it as she continued, "He's a special snowflake, as I said, and he can see these things in the air around us, but he's always been a little out of it. Even when Francis and Antonio met him, apparently, he was crazy."

"Ivan-crazy or Charles Manson-crazy?" I paused. "Wait, no, they're the same thing. Uh, Ivan-crazy or...Joker-crazy?"

"Joker-crazy," decided Liz after a second of deliberation. "Because Arthur's never really been on the same page as the rest of us. He likes pulling pranks and messing with people's heads - and those fairies of his are malicious little bastards - and he just _loves_ Tony."

Snorting, I stood to throw the empty ice cream cup and then sat back down next to Liz. "What happened between them?"

"Nothing. That's the weird part. Antonio dislikes Arthur but not so much that he leaves, while Arthur can't stand him at the best of times and tries to kill him at the worst. There's absolutely no reason for their hostility."

"Come on. From what I can tell, Antonio doesn't just dislike people. But Arthur's definitely a dick, so maybe he just pushed Antonio too far a few hundred years ago?"

Liz frowned thoughtfully, gathering her things and gesturing for me to do the same. Barely a minute later, a man spoke over intercom that the plane was boarding; the tickets were for Economy, so we waited in our seats for a little longer.

"Wow, he really _is_ a dick."

"Yep. So...I guess it's possible that Antonio and he fought over something, and Arthur took it upon himself to torment Antonio half to hell."

When we sat down, Liz took the window seat and I took the middle - something about preventing the lecherous-looking man next to me from trying to feel her up and dying for his troubles.

"Hey, last question," I said, leaning over to murmur with Liz. She smiled questioningly at me, encouraging me to continue. "What's Antonio been doing for the past few months?"

Her smile tightened. "Running with the wrong crowd, as you Americans would say."

She wouldn't tell me any more, but the relief in her eyes when she looked back at me proved that I hadn't been the only one hurting when they left. The thought of Antonio struggling with his decision brought a bitter smile to my face - or maybe that was me wanting to kiss him because he really _wasn't_ an insensitive asshole.

Whatever. I yanked my headphones and a single-serve pack of NyQuil from my bag that Liz must've slipped in there earlier; popping the gelcaps dry, I leaned my seat back and closed my eyes, prepared to sleep through the flight and wake up happily in Venice.

* * *

Liz shook me awake when the food cart lady came around six hours into the flight. I gratefully accepted the burger and scarfed it down before rolling over and returning to sleep. Next I woke, the plane was circling Venice International, and I rubbed at my eyes groggily as we touched down. My mouth tasted awful, and I pawed around in my pockets for gum.

It was raining, but didn't look too bad. Liz and I strode right toward the airport exit after passing through customs, but then some moron bumped into me and spattered his frappuchino all over my True Religion jeans and _greaaargh_. I nearly strangled him, but when security showed up to examine and break up any possible fight, in the middle of the airport, I flipped him off and stomped toward the bathroom, intent on trying to salvage the material. Of course, Liz, who'd vanished sometime during my shouting match, stood right outside with an American Eagle bag in her hand (an ominous sign, indeed) which she pushed into my arms as she grabbed my jacket sleeve, tugging me back to the exit. She hissed something about Antonio halfway to Volterra, and that I could change in the car.

"What car?" I asked, bemused.

She vanished again, and drove up a few moments later with this gorgeous, sleek Mercedes - that happened to be painted in the ugliest shade of lime green I'd ever seen.

I climbed into the front seat, ignoring the obvious GTA, and didn't bother buckling my seatbelt. All I wanted to do was change otu of the sopping jeans and into the -

Oh, god.

"...Liz," I started slowly, breathing through gritted teeth.

She didn't look at me, focusing on the road as she expertly maneuvred through the rain and cars. I couldn't even register the incoming headlights before she switched lanes again. "Yes?"

"You do realize that you bought me shorts, right?"

"I didn't buy anything. They were the first thing I saw when I flitted into the store."

"Liz, babe, these are Daisy Dukes."

"Really? Wow."

"You can't expect me to wear these!" I cried, holding the fuckers up. They were barely long enough to cover my face, and they were definitely in my size, which meant that Liz _knew_ what she was picking up. Fucking hell.

"Maybe I should've gotten you a straw, too," she said thoughtfully, voice uncharacteristically kind considering how snappy she'd been earlier.

"Why the hell would I need a straw?"

"To suck it up."

"...bitch," I grumbled, reaching for my belt buckle and pulling the black Vans garment off with a _fwoosh_. I threw it in the backseat and yanked off my boots before I undid the button on my jeans, shimmying them down my hips and legs. They were good pants; if I asked Mom, he'd tell me how to get out the coffee stains, so I bundled them up and jammed them into the American Eagle bag, swallowing my pride and dignity and squirming into the shorts.

Oh, _god_, they were fucking tiny. My parka practically covered the jean material.

"Liz, I hate you. Talk about something so I can forget this predicament."

"Talk about what?"

"I don't know. More about this Yong-Soo who keeps popping up?"

"Antonio told you at your birthday party, right?" she frowned.

"That was, like, in March. It's August. How am I supposed to remember this shit?"

"Fine, fine. Well, you probably remember the basics: Yong-Soo Im, Yao Wang, and Kiku Honda rose up against the original Volturi and their guard, way back in like 1100AD or something. They're very powerful, you know, and the whole meritocracy thing they've got going on in Volterra draws stray vampires in like flies to honey. The earlier Volturi were aristocratic and monarchist."

I didn't know much, but from the way Liz spoke, I assumed that she respected the Fobturi greatly. "What do you mean by powerful? Like, they can see the future and shit?"

"Well, yeah, but they have their own skills. Yong-Soo, the main leader, can examine all your memories, provided he touches you; Kiku, who I guess is like a vice president, drains emotions. Like, he can erase all happiness from a potential soldier, except for a beacon provided by Volturi service. It's very useful, as you can imagine."

"What about the other one, Wang?" I asked, reaching to turn off the AC.

"He's just really pretty. Nat pretty, but male. Half the time, people see him and forget what they're supposed to be doing, but that isn't really a skill..." She frowned. "Must be useful, though."

It sounded stupid to me, considering that Liz could _see the fucking future_, but to each their own. "The Fobturi isn't just those three, right? Aren't there more? I can't imagine three vampires taking down an entire guard."

Liz snorted. "Oh, yeah. There are loads more, and they're not all Asian, but most of the time only eight or ten remain in Volterra. They trade off here and there - except Yong-Soo, Yao, and Kiku, who generally remain in Volterra unless they absolutely must travel."

"Who're the ones here now?"

With a perfect imitation of the y-u-face, Liz threw her hands into the air. "Y u has so many questions?"

"Because you haven't been around to answer them in five months, so I'm assaulting you all at once. And you got me Daisy Dukes, bitch. Answer, pl0x."

She laughed and continued. "Fair enough. The three leaders are there, of course, along with Siem, Quynh, Hwa-Jeong, Lee, and Mei. That's not exactly a good combination, but Hwa-Jeong is a good friend of ours. Then again, I guess you could say Yong-Soo is a good friend of ours, which is why - oh, shit, what?" Pausing, Liz furrowed her brow and her eyes unfocused for a few seconds. I worried she'd drive off the road, and leaned over to straighten the steering wheel just in time to avoid another car.

"Yep, there you go," she sighed, knocking my hands away gently and taking the wheel again. "Yong-Soo knows Antonio's coming, and plans to refuse him. Antonio's probably going to make a scene."

The original relief blossoming in my chest at her first statement died abruptly as she continued, and I swallowed. "What do you mean, he's probably going to make a scene?"

Liz glanced out the window. The overcast sky blotted out the sun, and she said that Antonio would most likely make his scene by killing a few innocent folk - and by "a few", she meant "a whole fucking marketplace full of them".

"One of two rules Yong-Soo enforces says that we must avoid drawing human attention," explained Liz, swerving crazily on the slick road. The lights of Volterra appeared on the horizon, perhaps forty or fifty miles away, and she stomped the accelerator. "The other says some shit about children, but that's unimportant because Antonio is going to draw very much attention by massacring a few dozen civilians."

I sank down in my seat.

(And I'm not gonna lie. Part of me - a very big part of me - was delighted that Antonio cared for me so much that he'd kill a city in my name.)

"Of course, we're not going to let him do that," said Liz firmly. "The rain is going to clear up in a few minutes, give or take a second or two. Antonio's going to speak with Yong-Soo in a few minutes, and then he'll wait for it to dry up a bit, so that people will come outside. And then he's gonna pull a Gilbert. By that time, you'll already be there, so we're set."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you are going to get out of the car in ten minutes, because I am going 120 and there are no cops anywhere, and then you are going to run like - like Ludwig's dog is on your tail, and you're going to get to Antonio in the belltower court and keep him from acting like a moron, as he is predisposed to do."

Easy, right? Hah.

* * *

We sped through the gates of Volterra, and the streets were almost completely empty. Liz punched me, and I winced as I jumped out of the car; thankfully I'd worn Converse, and the rubber around the toes kept my socks dry as I ran through the streets.

And, uh, it's not like I'm dyslexic or anything and therefore unable to remember directions. Liz just told them to me wrong. And I ended up in the middle of the wrong marketplace.

"Excuse me," I shouted, grabbing a random woman whose arms were full of shopping bags. Switching to Italian, I asked her for directions to the belltower court; she took one look at my shorts, managed to cross herself, and walked away. I experienced the same situation at least three times as I asked others, and finally, a tall little girl with her dark hair in two braids around her throat tugged my jacket sleeve and beamed at me.

"In questo modo! E 'in questo modo!" she chirped, gesturing the proper direction. I shrugged and followed her through wet, winding alleys. Everything looked the same to me, and the fact that an eight-year-old could traverse the city better than me is a testament to my miserable navigation skills, but she did indeed take me to the proper place. After thanking her and mumbling something about not talking to strangers, I yanked my hood over my head. The clock was in the middle of the square, and several stone doors circled it; finding the right one would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

Before I even moved, my peripheral caught a door opening to my side. I whirled around and watched in horror as a figure with not-quite-sunkissed white skin and dark hair leaned against the stone doorway, lips twisted into a sneer as he surveyed his surroundings. His eyes settled on me and narrowed minutely.

I catapulted myself in that general direction; for all I knew, I'd just launched at some hapless, drunk Italian who would be very, very, very unpleasantly surprised when a teenager donning short-shorts and Converse landed on him.

But the man in the doorway extended his arms and caught me inhumanly quickly, and that intoxicatingly clear, deep smell invaded my senses, and yep, I'd launched at the right guy. When I gripped at his shirt and tilted my head back to glare at him (and perhaps shout at him for being such an idiot), his curiously tangelo eyes narrowed as his eyebrows lifted. He pulled me to him tightly with an arm around my waist, and rested his cheek on the top of my head.

"That was fast," he remarked, voice low and uncharacteristically joyless as he slowly reached up to trace my cheekbones. "I didn't even kill anyone and they already got to me? Wow, I got rusty."

"Don't be an idiot," I scoffed. "I'm not dead and neither are you. Well, you aren't any deader than you were, anyway."

Antonio frowned. "But that's not possible. You died, remember?"

I bent over and tugged off a shoe, and promptly beat him over the head with it.

We stood there for a second, but then Antonio really registered what'd just happened, and he clutched me to his chest as he jerked us back into the shelter of whatever hallway he'd been chilling in. He kissed my forehead, brushing his hands over my thighs and muttering something about how ridiculously tiny the shorts were.

"Liz got them," I grunted, squirming out of his arms. "Long story."

"You'll have to share it," he smiled. His grin widened when I punched him in the jaw, and he insisted on examining my bruised hand afterward.

"You're such an asshole, you know that?" I spat, propping my free hand on my hip and definitely not blushing redder than Antonio's crimson shirt as he kissed each of my fingers. "Don't think I'm forgiving you that easily, even though you've felt like shit for the past five months too."

Antonio laughed throatily and held my hand to his cheek. He stared at me and I stared back, and for a while I thought we'd just stand there, drowing in sexual tension for the rest of eternity, but then he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Snaking my arms around his neck and threading my fingers into his hair, I reciprocated quite happily. And I was so not crying - those were obviously Antonio's tears running down my cheeks. He thumbed them away from under my eyes and mumbled apology after apology into my mouth.

"You're such an asshole," I repeated with a sniffle as he kissed the junction between my jaw and throat.

Unfortunately, in the same second that he slid a hand under my sweatshirt, he pulled away, and stood protectively before me. A few seconds later, two figures entered from a door across the hall; from what I could see, both were Asian. If not for their inhumanly perfect faces and gleaming red eyes, they might have passed for human.

"Antonio," called the lady as she strode over, silent apart from the clicking of her heels on the stone floor. "Yong-Soo requires your presence."

Antonio pouted. "Ah, Quynh, I just saw him! And my sister is almost here."

"She'll come too, then," stated the man. He probably didn't even need the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

Speak of the devil and she shalt appear. The door behind me opened with a crack and in stepped Liz, hair slightly windswept but smile radiant and eyes jovial as she rammed the door back into place. "Sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the traffic. Now, what is this I'm hearing about seeing Yong-Soo?"

Quynh nodded. "Both of you - and the human - are to come."

Then Antonio leaned forward ever so slightly, and Liz lay a placating hand on his arm. I heard light, barely echoing footsteps - again audible only because the incoming stranger wore heels - and peered over Antonio's shoulder to observe an exquisite young Asian woman turning the far corner. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, curling loosely at her waist, and her red eyes shone in her pale, oval-shaped face. She looked so babyish that if not for the pink halter top tucked into a black pencil skirt - and the boobs - I'd probably have assumed her a middle schooler. The other Asians both wore similar outfits, Quynh donning a pale green silk blouse and the man wearing a blue button-down and black slacks.

"Hello, Mei," greeted Liz. "How nice to see you again."

"And you, Liz. But enough," she declared, smiling at Liz, Antonio, and me in turn as she stopped next to the man. "Let's go before Yao starts screaming again."

Liz grinned easily and Antonio inclined his head, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as Mei led us to the other end of the hall, down two flights of spiraling stone steps, and to a stop in front of a large, ornate door.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm such a bitch and I need to finish this friggin APUSH so have a cliffhanger lol. Volturi cast: Quynh = Vietnam; Siem = Thailand; Hwa-Jeong = N. Korea. The others you should be able to guess.

Fluorescent is due for an update sometime next week, and I'm starting that last prizefic as soon as things settle down. I hate moving. Guh.

Thanks for readinggg


	10. got your heart in a headlock

**Disclaimer: Nope**

**A/N: **OH MY GOD I'M SIXTEEN NOW. OOOORAH. (My birthday was yesterday lololol)

Okay, some of you are whining about the return of Spamano. To be honest, I myself would love to (1) write a Rumano chapterfic and (2) completely break from SMeyer. As such, I am putting a poll on my profile for either Spamano or Rumano ending - blind, of course, because I may completely disregard the actual results. Please note that in both settings, some very near and dear characters _will_ die - or at least disappear completely. Of course, the characters in question are different for each scenario.

Thanks for reading and voting, and thanks to Lily for just being awesome ;)

* * *

**Chapter 10: got your heart in a headlock**

Without further ado, Mei opened the door. Everything I'd heard about the Fobturi led me to half-expect three solemn men sitting solemnly on three solemn-looking, high-backed chairs, dressed in solemn colors with solemn frowns upon their faces; instead, the sight that greeted me nearly sent me reeling. I watched as an Korean man (obvious because his eyes slanted up and because he moved like Michael Jackson) danced across a smooth stone floor, dressed in black jeans and a blue-and-white jacket and trying to teach a stony Asian boy with choppily cut straight bangs his moves. He didn't look very successful, and as we entered, Yong-Soo gestured for us to wait a minute. A ridiculously gorgeous lady in a red qipao stood with her arms crossed, lips twisted into a scowl as she observed the scene before her. She didn't spare us a glance, and rapped the folded fan in her hand against her upper arm.

When I managed to tear my gaze from the woman, I glanced around the room. There were no high-backed chairs anywhere; rather, on a raised platform quite a distance from the entrance sat three mats. One was occupied by a serene Japanese man donning a kimono. The other two were empty, and I assumed they were for Yong-Soo and Yao.

Finally, Yong-Soo stopped, and after clapping his partner on the back and proclaiming that he'd gotten much better, turned to face us. His ghoulish red eyes focused on me first, and he smiled perfectly icily.

The boy with the choppy haircut spoke first, turning to Mei. "We send you out for one, and you bring back two," he sighed. As he stared at me, he added, "And a half."

I smiled crookedly, and Antonio's arm tightened around me as Mei strode up to stand with the boy.

Yong-Soo greeted us with a broad grin, and for a half second I couldn't believe that this guy had toppled a vampire kingdom. "Hello!" he laughed in accented English, propping his hands on his hips and squaring his broad shoulders. "It's not often that we get humans here before dinner. I'm Yong-Soo, and you must be Lovino. What a wonderful surprise, though - we all thought you were dead!"

"Yeah," I mumbled. How did one go about meeting a literal ruler, anyway?

"That's wonderful," he continued, smiling at Antonio. "It truly hurt to think of destroying someone as talented as Antonio."

I didn't have to say much more - Yong-Soo immediately turned away. "Liz, you're beautiful as ever," blandished the Korean with a slight bow in her direction. Liz beamed, but the woman off in the corner scoffed.

"Nowhere near as attractive as her sister," she grumbled - but her voice was rough, and lower than a woman's should really be and _why were all vampires gay_ _or transgendered?_ I tore my eyes away from her face and noticed that despite the feminine dress, she was actually a he, but considering that I was the one forced into Daisy Dukes, the revelation didn't shock me as much as it should have. Upon further examination, though, I realized that the qipao was just a red top with beige pants I'd completely overlooked.

Yong-Soo shot him a look and then rolled his eyes with a grin, as if to say, _women!_

"Thank you, Yao," said Liz with a laugh. "Nat's visiting with friends in Britain."

"We don't have friends," announced Yao airily.

"That's a lie," declared Yong-Soo. "Kiku and I are great friends, aren't we? And his breasts definitely belong to me." The Japanese man sitting quietly up on the platform ignored him, brow furrowed and eyes pinned on Antonio, for some reason, and Yong-Soo laughed merrily as Yao squawked off in Chinese and whacked him with the folding fan.

What an ox conversation. I fidgeted in Antonio's arms and twisted the material of his shirt between my fingers.

I barely saw Yong-Soo move, but in the same second that Antonio's hand tightened on my shoulder, the Korean man stood right in front of me, staring me down with eyes that looked surprisingly large for an Asian. I'm not being racist, I'm just telling you the facts, okay?

Liz stepped forward lightly, shooting a warning glance at Antonio. Yong-Soo's eyes flickered to Antonio for a second before back to me, amusement growing on his face.

"Of course we have friends, Yao," he grinned, leaning in until I felt his icy breath on my face. He smelled just as enticing as Antonio, but an unpleasantly metallic undertone accented the scent. I moved back minutely. "If we didn't, Lovino here would have been dead a long, long time ago."

Pulling me closer to him, Antonio smiled menacingly. Yao's lips twisted into a sneer and he began tapping the folded fan against his thigh.

Kiku, who had been silent till then, spoke in a strangely apathetic manner. "Speaking of. His survival contradicts our code."

The grin bled off Yong-Soo's face, and Antonio's lips tightened.

"That's true," mused the Korean, still leaning forward with his eyes boring holes into mine. I swallowed slowly, and he glanced toward my throat. "What to do about that? You mustn't misunderstand me, though - I love happy endings, and you and Lovino certainly have one in the making."

He reached for Antonio's hand, and Antonio grimaced but accepted the not-quite handshake, and Yong-Soo stared cheerfully at me for a few seconds.

"Dangsin-ui gasu," he declared a second later. "His blood sings to you, hmm?"

Mei scoffed. "Touching."

"How can you stand to be so close?" questioned Yong-Soo, glancing between us and swallowing the venom surely welling in his mouth. "I'd have given in long ago."

Antonio pulled his hand away. "It's not without difficulty, I assure you."

"Oh, I can see that!"

I moved back a little as Liz stepped toward me. "Like I told you, Yong-Soo can read your thoughts with a touch. All of them. It's hilariously intrusive."

"But it tells me things I need to know," defended the vampire in question. "For example, now I know that Lovino is the only human in Washington who knows of vampires. And I know that Lovino is the only human whose mind Antonio cannot read."

I arched a brow. "You mean that's not common?"

Yong-Soo inclined his head. "Not at all. But I would very much like to examine the boundaries of your immunity."

He extended a hand with an encouraging smile. I took it warily, half-expecting something awful, but then nothing happened. When he released my hand, however, he shot a grin at Antonio and gripped my shoulder, pushing me in front of him and gesturing for Mei to come closer. Antonio moved far too fast for me to notice, and knocked Yong-Soo's hand away.

Then he nearly collapsed, halting to a stop in front of me. His face twisted into a grimace, jaw taut and hands curled into fists as he struggled to stay standing.

Mei smiled serenely and I looked between her and Antonio several times, hardly believing that she could cause him such pain without even touching him.

I jerked forward. "Stop!" I shouted, barely moving an inch before the boy with the choppy haircut flitted over to me and restrained my hands. Liz gripped Antonio's wrist as he slowly sank to his knees, watching him anxiously, and my blood ran cold as I noticed the widening smile on Yong-Soo's face.

I thought Mei would kill Antonio for a few seconds, but then Yong-Soo turned to her. She blinked and Antonio shuddered, looking very much like he'd just swallowed a bottle of tequila, and in the time he took to gather his bearings, Mei had focused her red gaze on me.

"Go ahead," murmured Yong-Soo, watching intently with a hand to his chin.

I shivered, gnawing at my lip and wondering when the pain was going to start. A few seconds passed, and Mei's features contorted into a frown.

Yong-Soo laughed in shock and clapped his hands once before offering one to Antonio and helping him to his feet. "Remarkable," he stated. "Absolutely remarkable."

"This changes nothing," commented Kiku, who had not moved from his position on the platform.

"Nothing at all," echoed Yao. He smirked at Mei, who looked distraught; was this the first time her crazy power hadn't worked? "You already know what you're going to do, darling."

..._darling?_ I had no idea what to make of that, but Yong-Soo's eyes softened as he glanced at Yao.

"That's true, isn't it?" sighed Yong-Soo. "What a pity."

I swallowed, and Antonio - who had since resumed his guard over me - tensed.

"I would have loved to see your powers manifest, but you're too big a liability. All this work, to be undone by a human? I don't think so." Yong-Soo turned around and pushed a hand into the pocket of his blue and white jacket, waving the other in the air. "Siem?"

The man who had retrieved us upstairs, the one wearing the blue shirt, moved a fragment of an inch, and Antonio shoved me back into Liz's arms as Siem barreled into Antonio.

I have no idea what the hell happened after that, but I do know that Antonio and Siem fought evenly for a good fifteen or twenty seconds before the woman, Quynh, joined the battle quite epicly by sidekicking Antonio into a wall. From there, it went downhill pretty fast, and I screamed instinctively as Siem tightened his arm in a headlock around Antonio's throat.

"Please, please, no!" I screeched, unashamed until I noticed how bitchlike I sounded as I pleaded, "Kill me instead - just - just not him. Not him!"

Yong-Soo froze and stared at me as if I'd grown another head. Absently, he gestured for Siem and Quynh to stop, and he himself stepped down off the platform.

"Remarkable," he repeated. "You would die for someone like us?"

I swallowed. My throat felt like cotton.

"For a soulless monster?"

"You don't know a thing about his soul," I spat, squaring my shoulders even as Yong-Soo stared at me apathetically.

A moment or two passed, and then Yong-Soo sighed. "How awful. Perhaps, if Antonio planned to change you..." He reached out, and I squeezed my eyes shut as his cold, metallicy breath brushed over my jugular.

"Wait!" Liz spoke suddenly from where she stood, restrained by Yao - who'd apparently moved a few minutes ago, and stood unhappily with his glittering red eyes jumping back between Liz and Yong-Soo. "Lovino will be one of us," she continued, staring Yong-Soo down. "I've seen it. I'll change him myself."

I glanced at Antonio, who looked furious. Yong-Soo followed my gaze, before reached out to grasp Liz's outstretched hand. Again, he stared at me for a few seconds while he invaded Liz's mind, and I'm sure he saw something fun because when he blinked, a large smile spread over his face.

"I wish more people around here had that power," he sighed. "I'd love to see the future all the time like you." When he stepped back, Liz shot me a smile. "And Lovino, I do believe your immunity will make an interesting immortal. I'd love to see how it grows."

Yong-Soo reached out and flicked my bangs off my forehead, and I jerked back as he laughed. "Get out. Make your preparations," he added to Antonio as Siem and Quynh released him. "My sister will be here shortly, and beautiful as she is, I don't think Lovino wants to be here for that!"

"Thank you for your visit," announced Kiku, the Japanese, quietly.

"Go quickly, now," drawled Yao after a second in which nobody moved. "Mei, Lee, if you would." Both vampires nodded and led us back toward the large doors, and I registered Yong-Soo shuffling in my peripheral. Liz took my arm and called a goodbye as we left, but Antonio made no such gesture, stalking after us.

"And Antonio?" Yong-Soo called. We paused, and I turned to face him. My palms began to sweat at the unreadably dark expression on his face. "It would be wise for you to follow through on your promise quickly. Please know that we very rarely offer a second chance, let alone a third."

I glanced at Liz curiously, and she shook her head. "Later," she mouthed as the doors swung shut behind us.

On our way out, we ran into a large group of people led by another ridiculously gorgeous woman. It was actually a woman this time, though - she had boobs, and her low-cut sweaterdress exposed them to the world. She looked a rather lot like Yong-Soo, except that her long hair fell in loose, brown-streaked curls, and her eyes looked purple because of the blue contacts she wore over surely crimson irises.

"Hwa-Jeong," greeted Mei. "How's the fishing?"

"Wonderful, as always," winked the other woman. "I'll save some for you."

The group was really very large, and I knew that there was only one purpose for so many humans down here.

Their screams echoed around the stone halls as we scaled the stairs, and I gripped Antonio's hand tightly, willing myself to stay silent.

* * *

Our plane back to Seattle left the next evening, and I slept with Antonio's arms around me and Liz curled up to my side. When we landed, I opened my eyes and thought I'd gone crazy - because Antonio couldn't actually be here with me, could he? I was surely just imagining Liz and her smiling pink mouth. Then Antonio kissed me as the plane touched down, and I realized that it wasn't my mind playing tricks on me.

"I love you," I blurted as we strode hand in hand through customs. Antonio smiled.

"And I you."

I wanted him to stay with me forever, but when we drove back to Forks, he said that Ludwig was worried sick. His son's ex-boyfriend was not the right person to see.

Ludwig yanked the door open before I could unlock it, and the keys fell from my fingers onto the porch steps. We stood there, unmoving, for a good few seconds, and I thought Ludwig was going to strike me when he raised his arms. I flinched instinctively, and squirmed as he pulled me into a tight hug.

Wait. What? Ludwig was _hugging_ me?

A few seconds later, he pulled away. "I didn't know where you were," he stated gruffly, managing to sound both furious and overjoyed as he straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't even know you'd gone until Ivan called me -"

My eyes bugged. "_Ivan_ called you?"

"Yes. He sounded awful."

I swallowed, but Ludwig continued before I could respond. "What on earth made you think that you could leave without telling me?"

"I -"

"How did you even get out of the country?"

Laughing nervously, I tried to salvage the situation. "Out of the country? No. It's just, Liz and I -"

"Arthur Kirkland's Liz?"

"Yeah, she -"

"Are they back too?"

"I don't -"

"Get me their number. I don't care where they are, I am calling them right now and giving them -"

"No, no!" I waved my hands frantically, interrupting his rant. "It was completely my decision. I just - I got back in contact with Liz just a few days ago, and she asked me if -"

"Excuses!" snapped Ludwig. "You're grounded forever."

I guess he was just too relieved to berate me further, because he moved back into the house and plopped onto the sofa to watch UFC or whatever it is that German musclemen watch on their days off. When I stumbled upstairs and opened my door, it took all my concentration not to slam it shut and fling myself at Antonio, who sat on my bed with his fingers twined in his lap.

"Hello," he smiled as I closed the door slowly and exhaled before launching myself into his arms. "I missed that."

"It's your fault, you know," I sniffled as he lifted me into his lap. I leaned my head against his shoulder, playing absently with his dark curls as he sighed against my temple. "You didn't have to leave."

Antonio pulled me close with two wintry arms around my waist. "No, but it was for your own good."

"That's a load of bullshit. You saw how protective the others were - nothing would happen to me."

He smiled against my skin, and tilted my chin up with a long finger before kissing me. I slept easily, curled up next to him and inhaling the sweet, rich smell radiating off his body.

* * *

At least, I _should_ have slept easily, but then I woke up with a start when Antonio sat up next to me, a sneer twisting his handsome features.

I knew the reason before he spoke.

"Wolves," he hissed, standing and flitting to the window. The moonlight streaming through the clouds illuminated his face frightfully, and his dark eyes glimmered angrily. "They're breaking the treaty."

"That happened a while ago, actually," I remarked, standing and stretching before following him to the window. When I saw who stood outside, I nearly flinched: both Ivan and Alfred wore no shirts, but equally murderous looks as they glared Antonio down.

"Wait here," ordered Antonio, and I opened my mouth to protest as he slipped out the window and to the ground.

They were totally going to fight. I ran as stealthily as I could downstairs and out the back door, reaching the trio just as Alfred stepped forward. It was freezing outside, but I didn't care: the jog and the adrenaline kept me warm.

"Lovino," greeted Alfred, colder than the air. "Nice to see you again."

Ivan remained silent, eyes focused on Antonio. He'd grown in the past few days, and now he stood maybe half an inch above Alfred; considering the blonde was, like, 6', that was no easy feat. Both dwarfed Antonio, who I assumed was like 5'10 or so, and I probably resembled a poor little sapling next to three redwood trees.

"Uh," I croaked, clearing my throat and trying again as all three eyes turned to me. "Uh. Please don't fight. Let's not make this any more like a soap than we can avoid, okay?"

"You'll risk war," growled Ivan, stepping closer to Antonio. I assumed he'd completely ignored me, and my cheeks colored angrily.

"We can take you," responded Antonio, leaning forward offensively.

Alfred looked about to interrupt again, but I moved in between the two others before he could. Pressing one hand each to Ivan and Antonio's chests - one hot, one icy cold - I pushed them apart slowly, mouth taut as I glanced at each.

"Look, don't be morons," I grumbled.

For a second, Ivan looked so enraged that I thought he was going to transform. Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder, and Ivan exhaled, eyes closing for a second before popping back open as he finally met my gaze.

However, he still didn't speak to me. It was Alfred who began, "Lovino, did you know that the treaty struck between the Quileutes and the Kirklands not only prevents them from hunting on our land, but from changing any more humans?"

I froze.

"What?"

Nodding, Alfred frowned at me. "If Antonio changes you, he breaks the treaty completely."

"B-but - but Ivan came into Forks first!" My eyes darted between the three frantically. "Surely that already broke it."

Antonio sighed. "No, Lovino. He bent the rules. The treaty will break completely if I change you."

"So don't go getting any ideas," stated Ivan cruelly, finally turning to me. "He so much as _thinks_ about biting you, and we'll attack before they know what hit them."

My blood chilled.

I punched Ivan in the jaw before I really knew what I was doing.

"Get the fuck away," I hissed, clenching my fists and stomping closer to him. Ivan caught my hand as I attempted to sock him again. Alfred and Antonio both watched warily. "It's none of your business what I do with my life."

His face crumpled. "Lovino..."

"No! Shut the hell up!" I nearly shouted, squirming. He only let go when Antonio stepped forward, teeth bared.

Ivan and I stared at each other for a full ten seconds before he lowered his eyes to the ground, smoldering and grinding his teeth.

"Just a friendly reminder," he hissed. "We'll be going now."

Spinning around, he stalked off toward the forest. Alfred, who'd maintained a similar staring match with Antonio for the past minute or so, shot me a wry smile before jamming his hands into his cargo pockets and ambling after his packmate.

When Antonio reached out, I took his hand and followed him back to my room pliantly, too weary to refuse.

"Antonio?" I asked as I climbed back into bed next to him. The vampire smiled, gesturing for me to continue. "Was... is Ivan right?"

He took his time to answer, but then he sighed and nodded.

"But...Yong-Soo -"

"There are ways to trick the Volturi," he interrupted. "Yong-Soo believes we have violated his rules only twice, for example."

Well, _that_ must be an interesting story.

I bit my lip. "You're an asshole."

"How?"

"Because if you don't change me, I'll die."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will. Eventually."

Antonio met my gaze, and asked, "Why are you so intent on being like me?"

"If I'm a vampire too," I replied immediately, "I'll never lose you."

He sighed, and held me close.

Ten minutes passed, and I felt myself drifting off to sleep. Before my eyes slid shut, though, he cleared his throat.

"Yeah?" I twisted in his arms, peering up at his face. Antonio pressed his forehead to mine, a smile parting his lips.

"I've got a deal for you," he began.

I frowned, but a deal was better than nothing.

"Anything."

"I'll change you...if..." He paused, and I beat my hands good-naturedly against his chest. Catching them, much like how Ivan had done fifteen minutes earlier, Antonio kissed my fingers and a line up my forearm. Lips buried in the crook of my elbow, he finally finished his statement.

"I'll change you if you'll marry me."

I gasped.

Antonio grinned.

* * *

**A/N:** DONE, WITH A CLIFFHANGER BITCH. ECLIPSE CHAPTER 1 TO BE POSTED IN A FEW WEEKS. OOOOORAH.

thanks for reading thus far, babes. I love you! and follow me on tumblr, I'm meggaaaaay. tumblr. com (w/o spacessss) heeee


End file.
